


i want to be with you (everywhere)

by StoriesofmyLife



Series: shades of healing [3]
Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series), Karate Kid (Movies)
Genre: 1980's, 80's Music, Angst, Domestic Fluff, Dorks in Love, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, High School, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Karate Kid verse, M/M, Smut, Teen Lawrusso, Teen Romance, Teen Universe, Teenagers, What could've been, keeping with the times, lawrusso, not a lot because I want my boys to be happy, we're gonna party like it's 1985 baby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:59:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 37,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26938534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StoriesofmyLife/pseuds/StoriesofmyLife
Summary: “This is a lot harder than I thought it was gonna be.” Daniel whispers, swallowing heavily. “Not bein’ able to touch you or kiss you, it’s—““I know,” Johnny says, cupping Daniel’s jaw, thumb brushing over the curve of Daniel’s cheek.Daniel leans into the touch, giving Johnny a brave smile. “We’ll be okay, though, right?”“Yeah,” Johnny answers, giving him what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “Yeah, LaRusso, I think we’ll be okay.”Johnny would be lying if he said he wasn’t sure how being with Daniel was going to work when they couldn’t be this, in public, in school, around their peers. If he’s also being honest, he didn’t really think this far a head when they decided to be, well, together.--Or: Johnny and Daniel try navigating the growing pains of a new relationship during the last few months of high school, all the while Johnny's still battling some demons that Kreese left behind and trying to keep Daniel as far away from it as possible. What can he say? He learns the hard way.
Relationships: Bobby Brown & Johnny Lawrence, Daniel LaRusso & Johnny Lawrence, Daniel LaRusso & Mr. Miyagi, Daniel LaRusso/Ali Mills (past), Daniel LaRusso/Johnny Lawrence, John Kreese & Johnny Lawrence, Johnny Lawrence & Mr. Miyagi, Johnny Lawrence/Ali Mills (past)
Series: shades of healing [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1908265
Comments: 110
Kudos: 277





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! As usual, I want to start off by saying a huge THANK YOU to everyone who has taken the time to read, comment, leave kudos or drop in on tumblr to give me love on this series. I never expected in my wildest dreams that this story would take off the way it did, but I'm forever grateful for the continued love and support you guys have given me. 
> 
> This one was a bit trickier for me to navigate--I'm still debating on the chapter count (I'm thinking 3 to 4) and everything I want to cover in this story, so bare with me. I have the second chapter mostly written, but I'm still editing and adding pieces to this as I go. I also work full time and have a lot coming up in the next few weeks. I try to find time to write whenever I can but sometimes it can be few and far between, but never fear, this series is my top priority right now. I have so many ideas for this series and some of the later works are in various stages of being written, so more thing are coming :)
> 
> Thank thank thank you for your love and support, it means the world to me. 
> 
> Keep in mind there will be sex in this--they're two teenage boys--and there will also be the occasion homophobic slur or comment--this is the 80's and relationships like this we're not okay, to put it mildly. I don't want it to be like, super angsty or focus too hard on that, but there's going to pieces of this that reflect the views of the time, just as a heads up. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy :)

Sometimes, Johnny dreams. 

He dreams that there’s hands around his throat and they’re squeezing so hard, he can see stars dance behind his eyelids. The harder he tries to fight, the heavier his limbs get and the tighter the hands become. He chokes, gasping for air and his pulse hammers in his chest, echoing in his ears and that’s all he can hear.A rabbiting _thumpthumpthump_ as his bodygoes into panic mode— _mayday mayday mayday, oxygen levels are low, repeat, oxygen levels are low, get this guy some air._

He can’t scream or cry out for help and even if he could, it’s not like anyone’s around to save him. It’s just him and those hands, slowly choking the life out of him, pressing _down down down,_ fingers grasping so tight he can feel the imprint of a ring as it bites into his skin, the slow trickle of blood from the open wound. Right before the dreams fades (or he dies, he’s not really sure) he gets a flash of cold blue eyes, the lingering smell of cigar smoke and a voice whispers _mercy is for the weak and there will be no weakness in my dojo, Mr. Lawrence._

_*_

Johnny wakes up in a cold sweat, gasping for air, tears on his cheeks and with the phantom feeling of those hands on his neck—their bruising grip against his skin, their crushing weight against his throat. His chest is burning, lungs sucking in the sweet _sweet_ taste of the cold air blasting through the empty house. His heart is thudding like a war drum against his ribs and he scrambles for the lamp next to his bed, tugging the cord so harshly, he almost yanks it off the night stand in his desperation to turn it on.

Soft light blooms, casting the room in a gentle yellow glow and it eases the knot of anxiety in his belly when he takes in the familiar surroundings of his room—the posters on the walls, the jeans on the floor he was too lazy to throw in the hamper on his way into the bathroom, his drum set over in the corner, where it’s been collecting dust since Sid made him quit, all those years ago. 

Johnny runs a shaky hand through his sweat matted hair and glances at the clock radio, blowing out a breath when he sees the bright red numbers blink _5:03_ back at him almost mockingly, reminding him that he has almost two hours before he needs to be up in time for school. 

And even though he feels exhaustion pulling at his limbs, Johnny can’t shake the fear at what awaits him if he tries to go back to sleep. Maybe that makes him a pussy, but right now, he can’t bring himself to care. Besides, it’s not like there’s anyone around to see his moment of weakness. 

Once he feels confident that he can get up without falling over, he stumbles into his bathroom, flicking the light on, wincing, slamming his eyes shut because _too bright too bright, holy shit it’s like staring into the surface of the sun._ His stomach rolls and his head pounds and for a moment, Johnny thinks he gonna throw up, but the nausea passes after a moment and when he blinks his eyes back open, the level of light in the room is tolerable, not as jarring. 

Johnny glances, out of habit, at the long mirror above the sink and for a moment, he swears he sees finger shaped bruises, red and angry and already turning purple, on his neck and it makes him freeze, heart seizing up in his chest. But then he blinks and the marks are gone; all he sees is a neck free of bruises and wide, haunted blue eyes set in a face that’s as pale as the gleaming white marble of his bathroom counter.

_It’s okay,_ he tells himself, willing himself to calm down, _you’re okay._ _Kreese is gone. He can’t hurt you anymore._

_Kreese is gone,_ he chants to himself, stepping into the shower, letting the steam rise and open his still aching lungs, wonders why it feels like he’s drowning when he’s standing up. 

_Kreese is gone, Kreese is gone, c’mon, Lawrence, breathe, don’t be a pussy, Kreese is gone and you’re safe. Kreese is gone, breathe, inhale, exhale—_

The water pounds down on him, echoing his racing heart and he tries to practice breathing, like Daniel taught him to do on the beach, tries to center himself, tries to focus on inhaling the damp air through his nose, exhaling hot air into the foggy glass of the shower. 

It works long enough to get him through showering— _inhale. Shampoo. Exhale. Rinse. Inhale. Condition. Exhale. Wash body. Inhale. Rinse body and hair at same time. Exhale. Done._

But when Johnny steps out of the shower, shivering in the cool air of the bathroom and wipes the condensation off the glass of the mirror, he sees a flash of blue—and not his blue, either. Suddenly, the steam from his shower smells like aged tobacco and the hands drying his hair aren’t his and they’re sliding down his head, _down down down_ , towards his neck and Johnny squeezes his eyes shut because it’s not real, _notrealnotrealnotreal—_

_You’re gone,_ Johnny wills himself to believe, _you’re not here, you don’t exist anymore. Kreese is gone, he’s gone, he’s gone, he’s gone—_

But then a voice, cold and taunting, whispers, low and velvety, _Oh Johnny-boy, you didn’t really think you could rid of me that easily, did you?_

*

Johnny had waited as long as he could and he still ended up being stupid early to Daniel’s, but when Lucille opens the door, smile bright when she sees Johnny—well, he can’t really bring himself to care. 

“Good morning, Johnny!” She greets warmly, holding the door open for him while she flutters around the apartment, gathering her things for the day.

“Morning, Mrs. LaRusso,” Johnny returns, stepping into the apartment and closing the door behind him. The familiar sights and smells of the LaRusso home greet him like a warm blanket on a cold day, easing some of the tension in his shoulders.

“Oh please, sweetie, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Lucille?” She tuts, putting her hand on her hips and it’s a pose he’s seen Daniel do, so many times, when he’s beyond exasperated or frustrated. 

It makes Johnny smile. 

“Sorry,” Johnny says. “Lucille,” he adds, at her prompting look. 

Her stern expression melts and she smiles. “Much better, now,” She says, pulling her favorite shawl over her shoulders. “Daniel’s still sleeping,” she informs him with a fond roll of her eyes, grabbing her keys. “That boy could sleep through a war zone and that’s without the help of pain pills,” she sighs, shaking her head, “Anyways,” she continues, “there’s breakfast on the stove for you two, please make sure you eat somethin’ before school, okay?”

Johnny nods, even if his stomach protests at the thought of eating food—which is shame, because he loves Lucille’s cooking. 

“Alright, well, I think that’s everything,” Lucille says, grabbing her worn brief case.

She pauses on her way out the door to cup Johnny’s cheek, palm warm and smooth, wedding band cool against his skin. Her blue eyes remind him of his mother’s, even if they’re a few shades lighter. They roam over his face in motherly concern, a small furrow between her eyebrows. 

“You okay, honey?” Lucille asks, pressing her other hand to his forehead, as if to check for a fever. “You a little warm. Are you getting sick?”

It’s such a _mom_ thing to do and it makes Johnny’s heart twist with longing for his own mother, who’s still off skiing in the mountains with Sid on their annual New Years trip. 

“I’m fine, Mrs. LaRusso— _sorry_ , Lucille,” Johnny says, giving her a sheepish smile. “I must not of slept good last night or something.”

It’s a lie—Johnny had slept fantastic, up until that dream. But he refuses to let himself believe that a dream, of all things, is what’s making him feel so off kilter. Even if the events of the dream had been real. A memory. _Whatever._

Lucille doesn’t look convinced, but she doesn’t push him. “Okay, well, maybe lie down for a little bit—you have plenty of time until you boys have to leave for school, maybe a little cat nap will do you some good, huh?”

It’s not a bad idea, until Johnny remembers the dream and he has to fight back a shiver. “Yeah, maybe.”

Lucille smiles, patting his cheek before letting him go. “Good. Now, I have to run. You boys be good and have a good day a school, alright?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Johnny says dutifully. “Have a good day at work.”

Lucille smiles, pressing a lipstick kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, sweetie. And thank you for taking Daniel to school for me. Now scoot, you look dead on your feet,” She says, pushing him in the direction of the hallway, towards Daniel’s room and Johnny doesn't need any more prompting, heading down the hallway as he hears the front door open and close with Lucille’s exit. 

Daniel’s door is cracked open and Johnny takes it upon himself to enter the room that’s become just as familiar to him as his own, smiling to himself when he sees Daniel, curled up underneath the covers and snoring away. 

Johnny kicks off his shoes and climbs inside the cramped twin, curling around Daniel’s body, sinking into the warmth and comfort of his worn sheets and soft skin. 

Daniel stirs, nuzzling into Johnny’s neck, breath fanning over the sensitive skin and Johnny welcomes it. Daniel smells like ginger and citrus and _boy—_ it’s spicy and earthy and _Daniel._

It soothes the frayed edges of Johnny’s nerves, releasing the rest of the tension coiled in his muscles and untangling the knots of anxiety of anxiety in his belly. 

“Mmmm, Johnny,” Daniel breathes sleepily. “Hi.”

Johnny chuckles, brushing his fingers through Daniel’s soft hair. “Hi. Miss me?”

Daniel hums, snuggling closer, throwing a lanky arm around Johnny’s waist. “Always miss you.”

Johnny understands the feeling, but that’s too much mushiness for this early in the morning.

“I mean, I _am_ pretty great,” Johnny says, just to be an asshole. “I’d miss me, too.”

Daniel snorts softly, smacking Johnny’s shoulder. “You’re a dick, is what you are.”

“I _have_ a dick,” Johnny corrects, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, even though Daniel’s eyes are still closed and he misses it. “I could always refresh your memory, if you like.”

Daniel groans, cracking his eyes open and blinking up at Johnny, adorably sleep ruffled and annoyed. “That was the worst line I’ve ever heard and trust me, I’ve heard some bad ones.”

Johnny raises an eyebrow, shuffling on to his back and pulling Daniel down on top of him. “Oh yeah? Something I should know about?”

Daniel snorts again, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Didn’t you see the line of suitors knockin’ down my door, waitin’ for me to be done with you so they can have a turn?”

Even though Daniel’s joking, something tightens uncomfortably in Johnny’s chest at the thought of Daniel being with someone else and it feels a lot like jealousy. 

“Well, that’s too fucking bad for them then,” Johnny says, kissing Daniel’s neck, humming when Daniel tilts his head to give him more access. 

“Why’s that?” Daniel breathes, inhaling sharply when Johnny nibbles at the skin with his teeth. 

Johnny pulls away and meets Daniel’s brown eyes, dark with arousal and still sleepy at the edges. 

Johnny grins, bright and daring and says, “Because you’re mine, LaRusso,” before he captures Daniel’s lips in a kiss, a flicker of heat pooling in his belly at their familiar warmth and softness. He tastes like sleep and stale toothpaste, but Johnny doesn’t care—he welcomes the trickle of arousal in his veins, the zing of electricity down his spine at the feeling of Daniel in his lap, pressing Johnny down into the mattress. 

“Am I?” Daniel teases breathlessly when they part. 

Johnny nods, kissing him again, nipping at his lip, soothing the bite of teeth with his tongue, groaning when Daniel opens for him and their tongues brush together teasingly, gripping Daniel’s hips to pull him closer, nestling his ass in the cradle of Johnny’s hips. 

“You’re mine,” Johnny breathes into Daniel’s skin. It’s a promise to Daniel and a reminder to himself, soothing jealous ache at the thought of someone else touching Daniel like this, kissing him, tasting him. 

Daniel hums, moaning when Johnny grinds his erection into Daniel’s ass, teeth catching on his lip. 

“Say it, Danny,” Johnny pleads, fingertips rucking up Daniel’s t-shirt to touch heated skin. “Say it.”

Daniel whimpers, grinding his hips back into Johnny’s, eyes molten copper burning into Johnny’s. “I’m yours,” he whispers, gasping when Johnny’s fingers dance below the waist band of his sweats to grip his cock. “‘m all yours, Johnny, all yours.”

Johnny growls, kissing Daniel roughly, stroking over his erection with a tight fist and Daniel’s hips buck encouragingly, beckoning Johnny to continue, breathless whimpers leaving his lips that Johnny swallows greedily. 

They fall into an easy rhythm—Daniel thrusting forward on every up stroke, grinding back on Johnny’s jean clad erection on every down stroke and the friction…it’s good, _so_ good. Having Daniel on top of him, whole and alive and pulsing with life, is grounding and it chases away all traces of fear and anxiety that Johnny’s been carrying around all morning because of that fucking dream. 

Because here, locked away in Daniel’s room, with Daniel a warm weight on top him and all of his senses focused solely on Daniel, Johnny feels _safe,_ like nothing could touch him here _._

It’s so childish and not the least bit badass, but Johnny doesn’t care. He lets himself float in the feeling, let’s it wash over him like gentle waves lapping at his skin. 

“Johnny,” Daniel whispers, pleading, lashes fluttering against his flushed cheeks, face scrunched in pleasure and there’s this overwhelming feeling clawing in Johnny’s chest at the sight. 

“I’m right here, Danny,” Johnny murmurs, kissing his lips, “I’m right here, baby, I’ve got you.”

Daniel whimpers, eyebrows furrowing, pupils blown and Johnny can feel his cock twitch in his hand and he flicks his wrist on the next upstroke, drags his thumbnail right underneath the head, a flicker of pain to break through the pleasure and Daniel shudders, hips stuttering, cock pulsing and Johnny knows he’s close. 

“Come for me, baby,” Johnny demands gently, nosing against Daniel’s cheek, teasing his lips against Daniel’s jaw, teeth nipping at the muscle that jumps and twitches underneath his kisses. 

“Johnny,” Daniel murmurs, breath ghosting over Johnny’s neck, “Johnny, _JohnnyJohnnyJohnny—“_

Johnny pulls away to watch Daniel fall apart in his arms—shaking and breathless, eyes burning gold in the warm morning sun and it punches all the air out of Johnny’s lungs, that overwhelming feeling exploding in his veins and he feels himself come messily into his boxers, cock twitching and pulsing against Daniel’s ass. 

They fall back on the bed in a tangle of limbs, Daniel a dead weight on top of Johnny’s chest and Johnny holds him there, closing his eyes and breathing in the scent of sex and citrus, the smell of his cologne on Daniel’s skin and he feels weightless and grounded, all at once. 

They both startle when Daniel’s alarm clock goes off and Daniel grumbles, pulling away to slap the snooze button before he collapses back on to Johnny’s chest, burying his right between Johnny’s pecs, right over his heart.

“I don’t wan’a go t’ sc’ool,” Daniel says, voice muffled against the fabric of Johnny’s t-shirt. He props his chin on Johnny’s chest, which, kind of hurts, but Johnny ignores it in favor of grinning down at the grumpy pout on Daniel’s lips. “Can’t we just stay here?”

Johnny hums, running his fingers through Daniel’s hair, laughing when Daniel leans into it with a happy sigh. “I wish, but I think your mom would kill me if I didn’t get you to school.”

Daniel sighs, long and forlorn. “I know, I just—“ Daniel sighs again, tracing the logo on Johnny’s t-shirt. It tickles. There’s a frown on his lips that Johnny wants to fix immediately, doesn't like the feeling it gives him to see Daniel doing anything but smiling. 

“What?” Johnny asks softly, catching Daniel’s hand in his. 

Big brown eyes meet his and Johnny swallows when he sees the nervousness, the self-doubt, the insecurity. He doesn't like that, either. 

“How are we gonna do this, Johnny?” Daniel asks, voice shaky. He’d be gnawing on his nails if it wasn’t for the fact that Johnny was holding one hand and Daniel was supporting himself on the other. “I mean, I know we can’t—but like—are you—I mean, it’s cool that we’re like, seen together, right?”

Daniel looks so shy and vulnerable and Johnny feels a piece of his heart crack at the thought of making Daniel feel unsure in own skin, giving him a reason to doubt that Johnny wouldn’t want to be seen even hanging out with him in the halls. 

He only has himself to blame, he knows this—but Johnny would be lying if he said he wasn’t sure how being _this_ with Daniel was going to work when they couldn’t be _this,_ in public, in school, around their peers. If he’s also being honest, he didn’t really think this far a head when they decided to be, well, _together._

“As long as you don’t think being around me will cramp your style, LaRusso,” Johnny says, trying for teasing, ruffling Daniel’s hair. Daniel doesn’t look impressed, so Johnny changes tactics. “We just have to be careful, is all,” he says, brushing his fingers over Daniel’s knuckles, “obviously we can’t do _this,”_ he waves their conjoined hands between them for emphasis, “but we can still be seen with each other. I don’t plan on like, ditching you or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Daniel smiles sheepishly. “I know,” and he sounds like he means it, which soothes the blow of having his doubts in Johnny confirmed, just a little bit, “I just—what happened with Dutch at the party, people might wonder, you know? I don’t want you to have to deal with something like that again.”

Johnny winces, mind flashing to Dutch’s angry face, his arm wrapped like a vice around Daniel’s neck. The bruises were almost gone from Daniel’s skin, but the memory will be burned into Johnny’s mind for the rest of his life. 

“People might wonder, but as long we don’t give them anything to really confirm it with,” Johnny shrugs.“Besides,” he adds, “people were probably too drunk to really remember what happened, so it’s probably not even that big of a deal.”

At least, that what Johnny _hopes._ And if they do, on the off chance, remember what happened, Johnny just hopes they chalk it up to Johnny being a decent dude and putting Dutch in his place for picking on Daniel, especially when he was still injured. Mostly everyone was at the tournament, they saw Johnny hand Daniel the trophy, some of them might’ve even heard him say _you’re alright, LaRusso._ Maybe they’ll think they finally got over their childish little rivalry by beating the shit out of each other. 

It’s a 50/50 shot, really. 

“Maybe,” Daniel says, but he still looks worried. Shrugging, he gives Johnny a brave smile and says, “Guess we won’t know unless we go, right?”

Johnny brushes a kiss across his knuckles. “Right,” he affirms and to the lighten the mood, he adds with sly, teasing smile, “If anyone tries to give us shit, just kick ‘em in the face, LaRusso. You’re good at that.”

Daniel huffs out a surprised laugh and it makes warmth curl low in Johnny’s belly, making him laugh, too. 

“Yeah, but it doesn’t seem to work, at least on you,” Daniel says, eyes sparkling with mirth. 

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” Johnny demands, raising an eyebrow. 

“You’re still harassin’ me, aren’t you?” Daniel counters, grinning down at Johnny, eyes dancing with humor.

Johnny smirks, leaning up and capturing Daniel’s lips in a slow, dirty kiss that makes his heart race and his cock twitch with interest in his ruined boxers. 

Daniel looks dazed when Johnny pulls away, eyes dark and glazed over with lust and Johnny grins. “I don’t know, LaRusso, you seem pretty into whatever I’m dishing out.”

Daniel rolls his eyes, huffing an annoyed breath and Johnny laughs, bright and open, pressing an apologetic kiss against Daniel’s lips. 

“You’re an ass,” Daniel mutters, but there’s no heat behind it and he kisses Johnny back and he keeps kissing him, until his alarm clock goes off for the second time and they have to pull away from each other lest they risk being late. 

Which, Johnny is totally fine with, especially when Daniel strips right in the middle of his room before he crutches himself into the bathroom, throwing a clean pair of boxers at Johnny that he barely manages to catch before they hit him in the face and mutters something about perfect attendance and not being late. 

_Nerd,_ Johnny thinks with a snort, rolling his eyes affectionately as he gets off the bed and changes before wandering out to the kitchen to eat their breakfast that’s probably long gone cold by now. 

The memories of his dream have long since faded and he actually feels good. 

For now.

*

They make it to school with six minutes to spare before the first bell. Johnny had gotten distracted when Daniel came out of the shower, skin flushed and glistening, trapping him against the wall to kiss him breathless, which cost them fifteen minutes and barely gave Johnny enough time to scarf down breakfast before Daniel, fully dressed this time, hustled him out the door and all but shoved him into the driver seat of the Firebird.

“I have perfect attendance and I’m not gonna have it ruined just because you can’t keep it in your pants,” Daniel had huffed to him as Johnny pulled off the curb and on to the street.

“Says the one who I barely had to touch before they were creaming their pants like a twelve year old discovering playboy for the first time,” Johnny had muttered and that earned him a slap to the chest and losing control of the radio the entire drive to school. 

Now that they’re here and on time, Daniel seems much more relaxed, digging through his backpack to make sure he has everything he needs and Johnny finds himself wanting to draw out the last few minutes of their alone time, because he doesn’t know when they’ll get another chance during the day.

“Hey, I’ve got something for you,” Johnny says, prompting Daniel to look up from shoving a notebook into his backpack to raise an eyebrow at Johnny. 

Johnny licks his lips, feeling suddenly shy and nervous, as he reaches into the pocket of his jacket, Daniel watching him with big, curious eyes, mouth parting in surprises when he sees it— _it_ being Johnny’s class ring. Gold with his birthstone in the middle, his name engraved in cursive on the inside band. It’s on a matching gold chain that Johnny offers out to Daniel, who takes it hesitantly. 

“What’s this for?” Daniel asks, glancing between the ring and Johnny, head cocked to the side in that adorable way that he does when he’s trying to puzzle something out that doesn't quite fit. 

“I was hoping you’d wear it,” Johnny says, biting his lip sheepishly. “Just like—as a reminder, you know, that you’re important to me and that this— _us_ being together—might not be easy but that it’s worth having,” Johnny shrugs, cheeks flushing pink, “Just thought it might be a helpful, in case, you know, something happens or someone says something stupid or I don’t know,” Johnny’s rambling and he knows it, but Daniel’s still just looking between him and the ring with the weird look on his face and _fuck_ —“it’s stupid, right? Like, obviously, you don’t have to wear it, if—if you don’t _want_ to—“

“I want to,” Daniel cuts in and when Johnny chances a glance at him, his eyes are shining as he stares at the chain, the ring. There’s a hesitance there, that makes Johnny uneasy the longer he goes without taking it, because Johnny doesn’t understand what it means. Some of the confusion clears, when Daniel adds, shyly, “are you sure? I mean, Johnny, this looks really expensive and I wouldn’t want to—“

Oh, that. Of course Daniel would get caught up on _that._

“I want you to have it,” Johnny assures him gently. 

Daniel bites his lip, taking the chain from Johnny’s hand, their fingers brushing. Daniel traces a thumb over the ring, fingers playing with the thinly braided gold chain that Johnny had bought specifically for it. He’s had the idea since Christmas and he spent two hours in the jewelry store, trying to find the perfect chain to put it on. 

“Will you help me put it on?” Daniel asks, blinking up at Johnny with those mile long lashes. 

“Turn around,” Johnny whispers in answer, holding his hand out for the chain. Daniel hands it to him, fingers brushing over Johnny’s sweaty palms and he twists in the passenger seat, back to Johnny, waiting. 

Johnny fumbles with the clasp, suddenly all thumbs and nerves, but when he finally get its, he places it gently around Daniel’s neck, the ring making a soft _clink_ as it finds a home on Daniel’s chest, right over his heart.

Johnny clasps it and takes a moment to admire the contrast of the gold chain against Daniel’s tan skin, before he taps the back of Daniel’s neck twice and when Daniel turns back around, he’s smiling so hard it looks like it hurts. 

Johnny smiles back and he really wants to kiss him, but there’s people around and the tint on Johnny’s windows isn’t dark enough to hope that no one would see them. 

“Looks good, LaRusso,” Johnny compliments before tucking it into the collar of Daniel’s shirt, so it’s hidden away from prying eyes. 

There’s a sad twist to Daniel’s mouth when Johnny looks back up at him. 

“What’s the matter?” Johnny asks in concern. 

“Nothing, it’s just—“ Daniel bites his lip and looks away, down at his lap, “—I don’t have anything to give you.”

Johnny feels his chest warm and his belly swoop. “I have you. That’s enough for me.”

It’s mushy as hell and Johnny will die from shame if anyone else heard him say that, but seeing the sparkle return back to Daniel’s eyes is worth the sacrifice. 

“C’mon, LaRusso,” Johnny says with a roll of his eyes, getting out of the car. “Wouldn’t want you to be late.”

*

Daniel’s still on crutches for the time being—his next doctor’s appointment is Friday and that appointment will determine when he can finally retire them—and selfishly, Johnny’s thankful for it, because it gives him the chance to spend time with Daniel throughout the day, since they don’t have that many classes together. Johnny walks with him to his classes, carrying his books for him, ignoring the little bemused smile Daniel wears as he crutches along side Johnny. 

It’s not until Johnny walks with him to their shared third period history class that he gets fed up with the amused looks and the little secret smiles Daniel keeps giving him and he finally demands, a bit harshly, “ _What_ are you looking at, LaRusso?”

Daniel just smirks, pausing outside the doorway. The classroom’s locked, their teacher running late and they’re the first one’s there, so Johnny feels bold enough to lean a bit closer to Daniel as he raises an impatient eyebrow. 

“Well? Do I have something on my face?” Johnny demands, when Daniel just stands there, still looking at him with that little quirk to his lips that Johnny finds both endearing and annoying in equal measure. 

Which is how Johnny feels about most things concerning Daniel, if he’s being completely honest with himself. 

“Just your usual California pretty boy looks,” Daniel says with an easy smile, eyes twinkling with mirth. 

Johnny feels his cheeks flush at the compliment disguised as teasing, but ignores it, rolling his eyes. 

“Nice try, LaRusso,” Johnny says. “Now how about you answer my question?”

Daniel grins in challenge. “And if I don’t?”

Johnny growls in irritation. “Then I’ll kick that pretty little ass of yours until you do.”

Daniel’s eyes are practically _dancing_ at this point, that annoying little arrogant smirk playing across his lips as he tilts his head and taps his chin in mock thought. 

“Hmm,” Daniel says, dragging out the sound just to be a little shit. “I don’t know about it, Johnny, see that doesn’t seem like such a fair trade to me. But,” he adds, grin turning mischievous, “I guess I’ll agree to it, on one condition.”

“And that is?” Johnny demands impatiently. 

Daniel flickers around the hallway and deeming the coast clear, he leans in, warm breath tickling Johnny’s ear as he whispers, “That you promise to kiss it better afterwards.”

All the breath leaves Johnny’s body in a quiet groan, lower belly heating at the suggestion of kissing Daniel _there._ Wonders what kind of sounds he’d make as Johnny nipped and teased the skin of his ass, maybe he’d get brave and dip a finger between his cheeks, caress it over the furled skin of his hole. 

_Fuck_

They haven’t gotten that far yet. It’s mostly been quick and dirty hand jobs underneath the sheets, breathless pants and moans being swallowed by frantic kisses or sucking bruises into each other’s skin. Johnny’s toyed with the idea of blowing Daniel—wrapping his lips around the warm skin of his cock, tasting him for real, not just the shy, curious taste Johnny had sampled after making Daniel cum all over his fist—but he just hasn't worked up the nerve to. Partly out of not wanting to rush Daniel, who, for all his bravado, has about as much sexual experience as a nun. 

The other part—the tinier, smaller part of him that Johnny refuses to even acknowledge exists—is intimidated at the thought of doing _that_ , with another guy. 

He’s imagined Daniel doing it to him countless of times; on those rare days where they’re not together, Johnny’s fisted his cock underneath his sheets, eyes closed with image of Daniel’s plush lips wrapped around him, the feeling of his cock in Daniel’s throat as he swallows around him, the flush on his cheeks. Daniel may be inexperienced, but he was a quick learner and Johnny knows it wouldn't take him long to figure out what would make Johnny moan, make his toes curl and his belly heat with want. 

Hell, just thinking about it now has got his cock straining against the zipper of his jeans. 

Johnny knows Daniel would do it, too, if Johnny asked him to. And that makes him feel like an asshole for being hesitant to return the favor. 

Which really tracks because Johnny would _kill_ for a blowjob, especially if it’s Daniel doing the blowing. But Johnny’s not that much of an asshole to ask for something that even he’s not sure about doing. Tit for tat and all that. 

Or, in this case, dick for dick, he supposes. 

All this thinking about sex has got Johnny all tangled up and he’s hit with sudden realization that it’s been almost four hours since he last kissed Daniel.

And now Daniel’s looking at him, all smug arrogance and cocksure Jersey swagger and Johnny can’t even kiss the annoying smirk from his face because they’re in the middle of a crowded hallway, where anyone could see them.

“You’re a little shit,” Johnny hisses, just as the teacher comes up behind them and unlocks the door. 

“Is there a problem, here, gentlemen?” Mr. Harris demands over the rim of his glasses. 

His eyes flit between Daniel and Johnny suspiciously, a frown on his lips and Johnny puts on his best charming smile. 

“No, sir, not at all.” Johnny says, trying to discreetly shuffle away from Daniel. 

Mr. Harris doesn't look the least bit convinced and Daniel intervenes, big brown eyes softening into this doe-eyed look of innocence that, much to Johnny’s amusement and annoyance, seems to reassure their teacher. 

“I was just telling Johnny here about a book I read on World War II over winter break,” Daniel says without missing a beat. “It’s really fascinating. My karate teacher gave it to me—he fought in the war, was given the medal of honor and everything. It’s about how the Ally’s began using hand to hand combat when confronting their enemies, which saved the government like, millions of dollars on ammo and guns.”

Even though Daniel been telling Johnny exactly _zero_ of that, the lie rolls easily from his tongue and by the end Daniel’s little tirade, Mr. Harris actually looks interested, eyes sparking in a way that Johnny knows means he’ll be hanging around after class as Mr. Harris pumps Daniel for more information on a book that Johnny is about 99.9% sure doesn’t even exist. 

But with the way Daniel’s talking about it, it has Johnny half believing that it does and when Mr. Harris walks into the classroom to scribble down whatever bullshit title Daniel fed him, Johnny can’t help but lean down and whisper an impressed, “Nice one, Bambi.”

Daniel shivers and shoots him a grin over his shoulder. “Thanks. My ma says I’d make a good car salesman because I’m a natural bullshitter.”

Their lips are barely a breath a part and Johnny wants to bridge the gap so badly he can taste it, but no matter how much of a natural bullshitter Daniel may be, they’d have a tough time explaining themselves out of that one if anyone saw them.

So Johnny just snorts and settles for ruffling Daniel’s hair, letting his nails scratch against Daniel’s scalp in a way he knows Daniel likes before he pulls away. 

“She’s probably right,” Johnny says as Daniel crutches towards a seat.

“Oh yeah?” Daniel asks absently as he shuffles himself carefully into a desk. “What makes you say that?”

Johnny grins and in a show of giving Daniel his history book, he leans down and whispers, “Well, you got to me to agree to date you and if you haven’t noticed, I’m kind of a picky guy.”

Daniel smirks right back at him, long fingers tangling in the chain around his neck, caressing it with this thumb. “Well, you know what they say,” Daniel whispers, eyes shining with something that makes Johnny’s insides feel like a warm puddle of goo. “There’s a sucker born every minute.”

Johnny eyes Daniel’s lips, red and shiny and totally kissable. “Oh, I’m a sucker for something, alright.”

Daniel flushes, a soft laugh escaping his mouth, making his nose crinkle, and it makes Johnny smile, heart flip flopping pleasantly in his chest. 

But then the bell rings and students come rushing in, filling the desks around them and Johnny is forced to pull away, breaking the spell. 

Johnny taps Daniel’s desk twice with his knuckles. “I’ll see you after class,” he says before he walks all the way across the room to his assigned seat. 

And if he pays more attention to Daniel as he scribbles notes into his notebook or the way he bites the tip of the eraser while he listens to Mr. Harris drone on about the Civil Rights movement or something along those lines, well, no one besides Johnny has to know. 

Except for Bobby, who shoots him knowing looks between his own note taking that Johnny ignores completely. 

*

By the time lunch rolls around, Johnny feels like he’s about to come out of his skin if he doesn’t get his hands on Daniel soon. Having to look at him all day and not being able to touch him in some way—hold his hand, put his arm around his shoulder—is torture in a way Johnny hadn’t anticipated when they agreed to give this a shot. It’s not even about like, sex or anything—though Johnny wouldn’t mind an empty classroom or janitor’s closet and about ten free minutes to get Daniel all flushed and aroused—Johnny just wants to be able to do _normal_ things that _normal_ couples do without the unsavory repercussions he’d be opening them up to if he even attempted it.

So when he meets Daniel at his locker after fourth period to walk with him to the cafeteria, he’s relieved when Daniel reminds him he has to go to the nurses office to take his pain and anti-inflammatory meds. It’s a chance at getting Daniel alone for the first time all day and Johnny doesn’t hesitate to follow him, taking Daniel’s backpack from him and slinging it over his shoulder, in case a teacher walks by and wonders why Johnny’s not at lunch with the rest of the seniors. 

Johnny has to fight the urge to shove Daniel behind the nearest row of lockers and kiss him breathless, the only thing stopping him being the pinched look on Daniel’s face, the strain around his eyes and his mouth the only outward sign of how much pain he’s actually in. And Johnny only knows because he knows what to look for—has to, because he doesn’t trust Daniel to be honest with him when it comes to his pain scale. It’s a mixture of male pride and some weird form of Daniel wanting to protect Johnny from the damage that Johnny and Bobby had caused him. 

It’s sweet and also very irritating, leaving Johnny no choice but to learn to read Daniel’s tells, both verbal and non-verbal. 

Johnny manages to keep his hands to himself, waiting out in the hallway outside the nurses office, listening through the cracked door as Daniel flirts and sweet talks to nurse Brenda—a stern woman who, as far as Johnny knew, didn’t even know how to smile—but when Johnny peeks in the doorway, the normally serious nurse is flushed and giggling like a school girl as she digs through her cabinets to find Daniel’s pain meds. 

Johnny can’t help but smile to himself, shaking his head as Daniel charms her into giving him a Coke to wash his pills down with and she even hands him a lollipop afterwards—and not the cheap ones that are gone in like, three licks. It’s one of the good ones with the chocolate in the center, from that commercial that has the owl saying, all suggestive like, _how many licks does it take to get to the center?_

Johnny can’t wait to mock him for it. 

But then Daniel crutches out, lollipop stick already dangling from his mouth, lips stained red from the candy and holds a blue one up to Johnny in offering. 

It’s Johnny favorite flavor and he wonders, briefly, how much flirting it took to get Nurse Brenda to dig through her secret stash for just one lollipop, let alone two, but Johnny’s stomach is doing this weird, fluttery thing that he refuses to acknowledge as _butterflies_ and he’s too hung up on the fact that Daniel remembered something as trivial as his favorite lollipop flavor to really care. 

“Aw, did Nurse Brenda reward you for taking your pills like a big boy?” Johnny teases, taking the offered candy and putting it in his pocket for safe keeping—he toys with the idea of not eating it at all, to keep it and treasure it, but that thought is embarrassing enough that Johnny banishes it before it can really take form. Or worse, he does something stupid like actually follow through with it.

Daniel smirks, lollipop stick falling to the left side of his mouth, cheeks hollowing deliciously as he sucks on the candy. “Hey man, those pills are pretty big,” he says with a lazy shrug, but there’s a filthy look in his eyes, paired with a mischievous tilt to his chin when he adds, “I should get a reward for swallowin’ ‘em without gagging.”

The comment lands just like Daniel knew it would and Johnny groans, head falling back agains the wall. 

“You’re trying to kill me,” Johnny mutters, swallowing heavily. 

Daniel’s body is warm when he steps closer to Johnny, a firm, lean line against Johnny’s front. His big brown eyes are twinkling up at Johnny from their slight height difference, lips—red and plush and shiny with spit—pulled back into a teasing smile. He still smells like Johnny cologne and the chain, _Johnny’s_ chain, glitters and winks at him from underneath the fluorescent lights of the hallway and Johnny just— _really_ wants to kiss him. 

“Now why would I want to go and do somethin’ like that?” Daniel murmurs, fingers teasing at the buttons of Johnny’s sweater. 

“I’m sure you could think of a reason,” Johnny says, quirking his lips into a grin.

Daniel chuckles, breath warm and smelling like cherries as it dances over Johnny’s chin in a tantalizing caress. “Let’s see,” Daniel says, ticking his fingers across Johnny’s chest as he continues, “there was this morning—“

“I didn’t hear you complaining—“

“—earlier, outside of history, teasin’ me—“

“—I was simply finishing what _you_ started—“

“—then there’s the fact that right now, you’re standin’ here, arguin’ with me, when you could be kissin’ me.” Daniel finishes, tapping his final point out on Johnny’s chest. 

Johnny swallows, eyes flickering around the deserted hallway, the cracked door of the nurses office, before they land back on Daniel, who’s watching him with an amused smile and daring eyes. 

“Can’t exactly do that here, can I?” Johnny says, chancing another look around him. 

Daniel tuts, shaking his head. “So pretty, yet so dumb sometimes. Blondes man, I tell yah.”

Johnny flushes—at being called pretty, _again—_ and at the insinuation that his hair color has anything to do with his I.Q.

“Well, I don’t see you coming up with any ideas,” Johnny snaps defensively, crossing his arms with a huff. 

Daniel raises a disbelieving eyebrow. “You’re tellin’ me that Johnny Lawrence—King Karate, Mr. Popular, Mr. Blue-Eyes-With-Golden-Locks-On-Top— _doesn't_ have some sort of top secret make out spot on campus?”

Johnny does, actually, but that’s where he used to sneak off with Ali, back when they were dating and taking Daniel there feels wrong, in some way. Johnny’s not always smart when it comes to this relationship stuff, but even he knows, taking his current significant other to a place where he used to take his ex to make out is a bad idea. 

He does, however, have a back up plan. 

Idea in mind, Johnny smirks back at Daniel. “I guess you’ll just have to find out.”

*

Johnny used to spend a lot time in the library, back in his freshmen year, before he became really close with the rest of the Cobra’s. Johnny would go to the library with the lunch his mom had Linda, the maid, pack for him and he’d sit there and eat, headphones over his ears as he listened to whatever was in his Walkman at the time. Sometimes, if he wanted to put off going home a little longer, he’d come back after the last bell of the day and study or even read, if he was desperate enough. Anything to stay away from Sid and that big, lonely house that never felt like home, no matter how hard his mom tried to make it one. 

Situated in the back of the library were a bunch of old study rooms that no one really used anymore—not since the school found funding for a few computers in the center of the library. Most students tended to sit at the tables close by, in case one freed up, they could snag it before someone else came along and tried to use one. 

Johnny himself had one at home—another one of Sid’s useless gifts—and he never really found the use for it nor did he really get the novelty of having one, either. They were big and bulky and took up too much room and used for boring things like research and writing papers, two things Johnny never really had much a use for. He wasn’t a nerd, after all. 

Daniel, however, was and as soon as they walked through the doors, he begins gravitating towards the machines sitting in the middle of the comings and goings of the library, eyes wide and shining as he took in the latest technology like he’d never seen it before and Johnny, eyeing the clock, redirects his attention to the back of the library, towards his old study room that he used to use. 

It’s empty and so are the other ones, so Johnny holds the door open for him, guiding him into the room before Johnny closes the door. It doesn’t lock, so Johnny steals a chair from the desk and shoves it underneath the door handle. 

Daniel hops up on the desk, resting his crutches against a chair next to him and surveys the room, taking in the dated furniture and the dusty encyclopedias on the small bookshelf in the corner, before he looks back at Johnny, lips quirked around that damn lollipop stick. 

“I gotta say, you take me to the nicest places,” Daniel says, fingers running over the desk he’s sitting on, nose wrinkling when they come back dusty and dirty. He wipes them off carelessly on his leg of his jeans. “I mean, seriously, Johnny, this place looks like it hasn’t been used since the Cold War and that’s being generous. I mean geez, does the janitor even knows this place exists? ‘Cause there’s no way anyone has come near this place with a rag and a can of Pledge—“

Johnny rolls his eyes and shuts the blinds on the door, the small window, before he steps into Daniel’s space, sliding between his spread thighs, hands automatically gripping the dip of Daniel’s hips. 

Up close, Johnny can see the nervous energy radiating off of Daniel in waves—the way his jaw is clenched around the lollipop in his mouth, the tense line of his shoulders, the way his eyes keep darting towards the door.

Johnny is nervous, too. It’s risky, doing this in a place where doors don’t lock and anyone could walk in and catch them with their pants down, figuratively and literally, maybe, one day, if they ever get that desperate or brave.

But while the risk is great, the reward is greater and underneath the nervousness, there’s an undercurrent of excitement, too. It bleeds into the arousal building slowly in Johnny’s belly and the possessive part of him wouldn’t mind someone coming in and catching Johnny kissing Daniel, marking him up, making him pant and moan. Wants the world to know that Daniel is off limits to everyone but Johnny. 

Daniel’s still babbling, words coming out of his mouth involuntarily, something about the amount of germs that can be found in dust and what makes up dust and while it’s endearing, listening to him go off on a nerdy little tangent, hearing about dead skin cells and bacteria isn’t exactly setting the mood. 

Johnny stops him by taking the lollipop from his mouth and tossing it in the trash can by the door. Daniel squawks in protest, red stained lips falling into a pout. 

“Hey, I was eatin’ that—“

“LaRusso,” Johnny murmurs, fingers catching Daniel’s jaw. “Shut up.”

Daniel’s indignant reply is swallowed by Johnny’s lips descending on his, tongue sneaking out to tease at the plump bottom lip. He tastes like cherries and the sugary after taste of the Coke he downed in the nurses office. It floods Johnny’s tongue with sweetness and he groans in satisfaction, sliding his fingers into Daniel’s hair and tugging him closer, wanting to feel as much of him as he can. 

Daniel responds eagerly, hands tangling in Johnny’s hair, licking into Johnny’s mouth, nipping at his lip in a way that makes Johnny’s head spin with want. Daniel’s hands are warm and Johnny can feel the heat of his body through the too many layers of clothing and he wishes, more than anything, that he could spread Daniel out on this table and trace every inch of his tan skin with his fingers, his lips, his tongue. Burn his touch into Daniel’s skin so he doesn’t forget it. 

Daniel seems to agree, thumbing open the top buttons of Johnny’s sweater, teasing the warm skin of Johnny’s chest, right over his fluttering heart beat and Johnny presses closer, humming against Daniel’s lips. 

“Missed you,” Daniel admits softly, when they part for air, resting his forehead against Johnny’s. 

“I’m right here, Danny,” Johnny assures, nuzzling Daniel’s nose, brushing his lips against Daniel’s. 

“This is a lot harder than I thought it was gonna be.” Daniel whispers, swallowing heavily. “Not bein’ able to touch you or kiss you, it’s—“

“I know,” Johnny says, cupping Daniel’s jaw, thumb brushing over the curve of Daniel’s cheek. 

Daniel leans into the touch, giving Johnny a brave smile. “We’ll be okay, though, right?”

“Yeah,” Johnny answers, giving him what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “Yeah, LaRusso, I think we’ll be okay.”

Daniel hums, pressing a kiss to Johnny’s lips. “Besides,” he murmurs, between kisses, nipping playfully at Johnny’s lip, “just think of all the catchin’ up we get to do—” another kiss, this one longer, deeper, making Johnny’s belly tighten and heat spread down his spine, “—once we get home—“ Johnny can feel Daniel, hard and hot through his jeans and it makes his own erection twitch, straining against his zipper, “—and we’re alone, no one else around—“

Johnny groans and it takes all his willpower to pull away, resting his forehead against Daniel’s, to breathe and get himself under control. 

Daniel’s kiss swollen lips are smirking, dark eyes glimmering with mirth, obviously pleased with himself and it shouldn't be as hot as it is.

“God, you’re gonna be the death of me,” Johnny breathes and it’s the truth, too. He feels insatiable, like there’s this constant hunger for Daniel humming underneath his skin and Johnny can’t remember ever _wanting_ someone this badly before. It’s overwhelming and distracting and Johnny prays it never ends. 

“What a fun way to go though, right?” Daniel pants, as Johnny trails his lips down his jaw, over this pulse point, sucks a bruise there for everyone to see.

Johnny’s response is kiss him again.

(They don’t actually make it to the cafeteria for lunch)

*

Gym is Johnny’s last class of the day and he spends it kicking the soccer ball around the field with Bobby and the boys, laughing and joking around like usual and it’s…nice. Familiar, even if it’s a little weird not having Dutch there with them. 

Johnny knows they all feel it, but no one says anything, so Johnny lets it go. At least, until Bobby corners him on his way to his locker, both with towels around their waists and Johnny won’t lie and say he wasn’t expecting this. Bobby had been shooting him concerned looks through the whole gym period

“Dude, where were you at lunch today?” Bobby demands with a worried crease between his eyes. 

Johnny thinks of Daniel and their feverish kisses in the back of the library and smirks. “I was busy,” Johnny says. “Why?” 

Bobby rolls his eyes. “I’m gonna pretend like I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he fake shudders and Johnny shoves him, laughing. 

“Anyways,” Bobby continues, tone getting serious, “I was asking because I didn’t know if you heard or not.”

Johnny grabs his sweater from its hook on his locker. “Heard what?” 

Bobby bites his lip. “About Dutch.”

Johnny pauses in buttoning up his sweater, raising an eyebrow. “What about him?”

The truth was, Johnny hasn’t really spared much thought to Dutch since the party, not after what he did to Daniel. Johnny was surprised at not seeing him around school today, but he didn’t really take time to consider why that was.

“He‘s in Juvie,” Bobby informs him with a grim look. “Apparently he got into it with this bouncer at a bar—tried to use his fake and the guy caught him, kicked Dutch out. Dutch got pissed and started whaling on the guy and did a number on him.” 

Johnny whistles. “Shit, that’s—“ Johnny shakes his head, blowing out a breath, “—rough, man.”

“Johnny, I don’t think he’s okay,” Bobby says worriedly, chewing his lip. “I know we’re all dealing with—you know, Kreese and stuff, but Dutch—“

“—is choosing his own path, Bobby,” Johnny says, cutting him off. “What Kreese taught us—it was fucked, okay? But that’s not—we can’t keep using that as an excuse to...hurt people, man. What Dutch did to Daniel...I can’t forgive that. Maybe that makes me a hypocrite but I’m trying to fix it, okay? Dutch seems like he wants to do the exact opposite.” 

Bobby doesn’t look convinced, blue eyes sad. “Yeah, I guess,” he says dejectedly. 

Johnny sighs, giving Bobby a wan smile. “You can’t fix everyone, Bobby.” 

“I know that, Johnny,” Bobby says, annoyed. “But Dutch isn’t a bad guy. You know he’s got it bad at home, I figured you of all people—“

“Fuck you, Bobby,” Johnny snaps, slamming his locker shut. “Don’t compare me to him, okay? He’s a Kreese wanna be who wants to blame the world for his problems and I’m actually trying to work on mine. Dutch didn’t do shit for me when Kreese was trying to choke me to death, he hurt Daniel and he’s just—I _can’t_ do it anymore. It sucks that this is happening to him, but those were his choices, Bobby. His. Not yours, not mine. _His_.” 

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” Bobby says after a beat, looking genuinely apologetic and Johnny’s anger disappears as quick as it came. Bobby’s one of those people that’s hard to stay mad at, with his earnest blue eyes and kind soul that wants to help everyone in need.“I just—he used to be our friend, you know?”

Johnny sighs tiredly, rubbing at his eyes, pinching at the bridge of his nose to ease the sudden flare of a headache away. “Yeah, I know, man.”

“Everything’s changing,” Bobby says quietly. “It’s just—it’s taking some getting used to.” 

Johnny snorts. “Tell me about it.” 

Bobby’s eyes soften and he nudges Johnny with his elbow. “Where was Daniel today? I didn’t see him out there.”

“With everything going on with his knee, he won’t be able to do much, so the school transferred him out and into study hall,” Johnny explains, checking his watch, he adds, “speaking of which, coach told me I could leave early to meet him at the library .”

Bobby smirks playfully. “He’s got you whipped man.” 

Johnny rolls his eyes. “I think it’s the least I can do for him.”

Bobby concedes this with a nod. “Fair point. I’d be happy to help out too, if you guys need it.”

Something stirs inside Johnny at the thought of Bobby helping Daniel—carrying his books for him, opening doors for him, walking him to class—it’s tight and possessive and Johnny tries to push it down. He knows Bobby is just trying to help, to be supportive, maybe even become friends with Daniel, but that was _their_ time together. At least, while Daniel needed Johnny’s help, that is. But Johnny wants to take full advantage of the opportunity while he can, because once the crutches go away and Daniel’s knee gets better, he’s not really sure what his excuse will be to hang around Daniel without it look suspicious. 

“Thanks, man,” Johnny says, shouldering his backpack. “I’ll catch you later, alright?”

“Later, dude,” Bobby replies easily, slapping his shoulder. 

Johnny exits the gym and makes it to the library with a few minutes to spare before the bell rings. He finds Daniel at a table in the back, eyes trained on a book and Johnny takes the moment to lean against a neighboring bookcase and just…watch him. 

The afternoon sun is streaming in from the window and it hits the side of Daniel’s face, illuminating his tan skin and casting it in a warm glow—like bronze melting over the light of a flame. His dark hair is falling over his eyes and Johnny watches, as Daniel runs his fingers through it, pushing it back over his forehead, brown eyes never leaving the page in front of him. He looks relaxed, completely at ease, sitting there reading his book, leg propped up in a chair, twirling a pen on the table with his long, elegant fingers and that overwhelming feeling bubbles up unexpectedly, threatening to knock Johnny off balance.

The bell rings over head and Daniel looks up, as if broken out of a trance and his eyes almost immediately land on Johnny. A smile breaks across his face, cheeks dimpling, brown eyes crinkling and he just looks so _happy_ to see Johnny. It’s a feeling Johnny isn't all that familiar with, but he finds him basking in, regardless.

“Hey,” Daniel says, when Johnny steps closer to his little table, closing his book. “You’re earlier than I expected you to be.”

Johnny shrugs, smirking. “Perks of being coaches favorite student,” he says, grabbing the chair next to Daniel and flipping it around before he plops down in it, resting his arms along the back. “Told him I was helping out a disabled student, so he let me leave class early.”

Daniel rolls his eyes, snorting. “Okay, first of all, I’m not disabled and you sayin’ I am might be vaguely offensive to those who actually are,” he points out, grabbing his back pack and beginning to stuff his things inside. “Second of all, I’m so glad my ‘disability,’” he says, with air quotes and all, “has given you so many advantages.”

“It does have it’s perks,” Johnny agrees, dodging the half hearted smack Daniel sends his way. “Oh c’mon, how else would I be able to walk you to class and carry your books without it looking all—“

“—gay?” Daniel finishes with a wry smile, standing up and grabbing his crutches.

Johnny ignores the flush on his cheeks and gets up to help him. “No, not that, it’s just—“ he fumbles for the right words as he grabs Daniel’s backpack and throws it over his shoulder, “—weird? Not like, weird, like we’re weird, just—“

Daniel’s eyes flicker around their surroundings before he reaches out and grabs Johnny’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “John,” Daniel says, tone serious, but his eyes are amused. “I think you might be over thinking this, just a little bit.”

“Maybe,” Johnny concedes, shrugging. “I just don’t want to deal with assholes like Dutch giving us a hard time.”

Daniel sighs and smiles sadly. “If there’s anything I’ve learned since moving here, it’s that there’s always going to be assholes, no matter where you go—“

“Hey—“ Johnny says, frowning but Daniel ignores him. 

“—and you can’t live your life in fear of ‘em. Eventually, they’ll get bored and move on,” Daniel finishes with a shrug. 

“And if that doesn’t work?” Johnny demands, thinking of Dutch. 

Daniel smiles, squeezing Johnny’s hand one last time before he lets go and begins crutching his way out of the library. “Then you challenge them to a karate tournament and kick their ass until the leave you alone.”

Daniel shoots him a grin over his shoulder, eyes twinkling and Johnny can’t help but roll his eyes, smiling fondly as he follows him out of the library and into the empty hallway to his locker. 

“Whatever, LaRusso, just remember, as soon as that knee is better, I want a rematch and this time, you can leave your little crane kick at home,” Johnny says, leaning up against the locker next to Daniel’s. 

Daniel scoffs. “Crane kick or no crane kick, I can still kick your ass,” Daniel says matter of factly, handing Johnny the books he needs before he slams his locker closed. 

“You think so, huh?” Johnny murmurs, pressing closer, trapping Daniel back into the row of lockers. 

Daniel just smirks, raising his eyebrows in challenge. “I know so.”

Johnny hums, eyes flickering down to Daniel’s lips. “Guess we’ll see about that.”

Daniel’s pupils are blown as he licks his lips and says, “Yeah, I guess so.”

Johnny smirks. “Hey, Jersey boy?”

“What?” Daniel asks distractedly, eyeing Johnny’s lips. 

“Do you wanna get a milkshake with me?” Johnny asks, feeling suddenly shy, which, is really dumb in the grand scheme of things, considering they’ve made out and touched each other dicks on more than one occasion, but. The feeling is there—a nervous pit opening up in his stomach, palms sweaty in his jean pockets, teeth gnawing on his inner cheek. 

Daniel blinks, eyes moving from Johnny’s lips to his face, titling his head in confusion. 

Johnny can feel his cheeks warm underneath the weight of that brown eyed stare and a slow smile spreads across Daniel’s lips, eyes shining. 

“You askin’ me on a date, Johnny?” Daniel teases, but Johnny can see the pleased flush to his cheeks, the shy way he’s biting his lip and it makes Johnny’s chest warm with pleasure. 

“Duh, LaRusso,” Johnny says with a roll of his eyes, fighting his own smile. “Except, this doesn't count as our first date. I can do way better than milkshakes on a Monday for a first date.”

“Alright, Casanova,” Daniel teases, following Johnny down the hallway. “We’ll call it a pre-date then, if that’ll make you happy. But just so you know, it’s gonna take a lot more than just a milkshake to get into my pants, I do have standards.”

“Oh yeah? What if I buy you fries to go with your milkshake?” Johnny asks, opening the door for Daniel without giving it a second thought.

“Ohh, fries _and_ a milkshake?” Daniel hums, tilting his head in mock consideration as they make their way through the parking lot to Johnny’s car. “That’s at least second base worthy.”

“Only second base?”

“Throw a burger in there and I might let you round to third.”

“You’re a cheap date, LaRusso.”

“Keep talking like that and I won’t even let you kiss me on the cheek afterwards.”

*

When Johnny parks in front of Sal’s, he tries to forget what happened the last time he was here. Of course, that all goes out the window when he walks Daniel through the door and makes eye contact with none other than Rhonda, their waitress from last time and the giver of his free chocolate milkshake for punching Dutch in the face for using the word _fag._

Her eyes light up and she practically sprints over to them, blonde pony tail swinging like a perky pendulum behind her and Johnny groans underneath his breath. 

“Well, hello again!” Rhonda greets him cheerily, like they’re old friends. 

Daniel shoots Johnny a confused look that he ignores in favor of giving Rhonda a tight smile. 

“Hi,” Johnny says. “A booth for two, please.”

Rhonda smiles. “You got it, hon,” her eyes drift to Daniel, her gaze suddenly scrutinizing. “And who’s this?”

Daniel immediately gives her his most charming smile, holding his hand out for her to shake. “Hi, I’m Daniel, Daniel LaRusso.”

Rhonda takes his hand, giving him a once over. “Well, aren’t you a charmer? I’m Rhonda, nice to meet you.” Turning her gaze back to Johnny, she says, “I must say, sweetie, I thought your last uh, _friend_ was cute, but this one here—“ she moves her gaze back to Daniel, eyeing him up and down like one would a piece of meat, “—my goodness. You’re a sight for sore eyes. And speaking of eyes—you have some of the prettiest brown eyes. And those _lashes!_ I’d kill to have those lashes.”

Daniel flushes bright pink, giving her his best _aw shucks_ smile that Johnny knows works like a charm on the entirety of the female population. “Thank you, ma’am, you’re way too kind.”

“And humble, too,” Rhonda says with a sigh. She turns back to Johnny and says, like Johnny was asking for her approval, “I think you’ve found a keeper, honey.”

Johnny smiles tightly. “Yeah, well, we’ll see about that. Now about that booth?”

Rhonda’s eyes widen, cheeks flushing pink like her lipstick. “Oh yeah, sorry about that! Right this way gentlemen.”

She escorts them to a booth in the back, close to the jukebox and lays down their menus, cooing when Johnny helps Daniel slide in to the booth before he seats himself. She scurries off to get them water and as soon as she disappears, Daniel raises an eyebrow, lips twitching. 

“Friend of yours?” He asks, glancing over at Rhonda over his shoulder before he turns back to Johnny. 

Johnny sighs, flipping through his menu even though he knows what he wants already. He gets the same thing every time he comes here. 

“She was our waitress last time, when I came with the guys,” Johnny explains. “She overheard Dutch call you—well, what he called you and she saw me punch him and she gave me a milkshake as a thank you. Her brother’s gay, apparently and she was thankful that I stood up to someone using that word or something, I don’t know.”

“Aw, Johnny—“ Daniel starts, eyes twinkling with mirth. 

“Don’t—“ Johnny warns but Daniel ignores him. 

“—you’re her _hero_ ,” Daniel teases, batting his eyelashes. 

“Can it or you’re paying for your own shit,” Johnny warns, but it’s an empty threat and Daniel knows it. 

“Now, Johnny, is that anyway to talk to your _friend?”_ Daniel says, eyes dancing. “We wouldn’t want Rhonda to overhear you and shatter all her illusions about you, now would we?”

Johnny opens his mouth to retort but Rhonda comes back with glasses of water and asks them if they’re ready to order. 

Johnny gets his usual—cheeseburger and fries with a chocolate shake and Daniel opts for just fries and a milkshake, much to Johnny’s surprise. 

“I thought you wanted a burger?” He asks when Rhonda disappears again. 

“My ma would kill me if I spoiled my dinner,” Daniel says with a shrug. “Besides, we skipped lunch today and the pain pills make me nauseous if I don’t eat right after I take ‘em.”

Johnny feels guilty, thinking of the way he swept Daniel off right from the nurses office just because he was horny and wanted to make out. 

A foot nudges his under the table and he looks up to see Daniel watching him, a flush to his cheeks and a small grin on his lips. 

“Hey, it was worth it,” Daniel says, keeping his voice low. “Trust me.”

Johnny rolls his eyes but he won’t lie and say Daniel’s reassurance doesn’t make him feel better. “Geez, LaRusso, who knew you were so easy?”

Daniel throws his balled up straw wrapper at him and Johnny dodges it, laughing. 

A comfortable silence settles across the table and Johnny takes that moment to look out the window, good mood evaporating at the sight of the Cobra Kai dojo, the metal of the building glittering mockingly in the sunlight. 

It was weird to think that just a few weeks ago, Johnny would be walking through the doors with Bobby, Tommy, Jimmy and Dutch, laughing and talking about their day at school as they headed into the small locker room to change into their gi’s to start training. Kreese would be waiting for them at the front of the room, smoking a cigar before the rest of the advanced class got there and they’d shoot the shit about the next tournament, already focused on the next title, the next round of enemies they’d have to make their way through in order to stay on top. 

Sometimes, Johnny would stay behind and Kreese would give him private training. Sometimes, Johnny would leave right after and go home with Bobby to hangout and eat dinner with his parents and little sister. And sometimes, if their training had been particularly rough that day, they’d come here, to the diner. 

An ache blooms in Johnny’s chest and the sense of longing he feels—to have those days back, to feel the burn and stretch and soreness of a two hour training session—is overwhelming. 

He doesn't miss Kreese, but he does miss Cobra Kai and training and karate. It’s like missing a piece of himself and he has no idea how to get it back. If he _can_ get it back.

“Have you gone back at all?”

Johnny blinks, looking over at Daniel, who’s watching him curiously. He nods to the dojo across the street, where the blinds are drawn, parking lot empty, a for rent sign in the window. 

Johnny shakes his head, fiddling with his straw in his glass of water. “No, I haven’t. Not since the whole—“ Johnny gesture vaguely to his neck and Daniel’s eyes darken. 

“Good,” Daniel mutters, shoving his straw roughly into his water like it personally offended him. “I hope that asshole never comes back.”

Johnny’s inclined to agree, but there’s a small part of him that twinges at the thought of another father figure leaving him behind. Sure, Kreese was an asshole and a sadistic son of a bitch, but for five years, he filled a void inside Johnny that no one else could. Kreese mentored him, taught him and guided him into being strong, to be the best. And then turned on Johnny at the drop of a dime the minute Johnny wasn’t the best. 

Sometimes, Johnny wonders what it is about him that’s never enough to keep people around. What is about him that makes people disappear, just when he needs them the most. What is about him that’s so desperate to be loved that he’s willing to overlook the worst parts of a person if it means he gets even an ounce of that love returned.

“Hey, I have an idea,” Daniel says suddenly, startling Johnny out of his morose thoughts.Daniel’s eyes are bright, gleaming with excitement and Johnny has a gut feeling he’s not gonna like whatever this idea is. “You could train with me! I mean, not right now, obviously, since I can’t really do much and I’d have to ask Mr. Miyagi, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind—“

_“No,”_ Johnny says sharply, cutting Daniel off. It surprises him, how vehement he sounds and judging by the look on Daniel’s face, he is, too. 

Daniel’s eyes flash with hurt, but just as quick as it appears, it’s gone, replaced by his _everything’s copacetic_ smile that’s more self-deprecating than easy going. It lances through Johnny like a knife and he mentally curses himself for, once again, ruining everything he touches. 

“Right, yeah, never mind,” Daniel says, ducking his head down, fingers tearing at the paper straw wrapper, “it’s stupid—dumb idea, forget I said anything.”

Regret twists Johnny’s stomach, but before he can say anything, Rhonda appears, tray laden down with their food and milkshakes. 

“Here you go, burger and fries with a chocolate milkshake for you—“ she slides Johnny plate down in front of him with a smile, before she turns her attention to Daniel, “—and a plate of fries and a chocolate shake with extra cherries and whip cream for you, sweetie.”

Daniel shoots her a charming smile. “Thank you, Rhonda.”

Rhonda blushes and smiles shyly back. “You’re welcome,” eyes flickering between them, she adds, “do you boys need anything else?”

“No, I think we’re good, thanks,” Johnny says, giving her a tight smile. He’s being kind of rude and he knows it, but he’s angry at himself and he’s annoyed with her timing, even though he knows it’s not her fault. 

If Rhonda picks up on his annoyance, she doesn’t show it and Johnny makes a mental note to add a few dollars to her tip to make it up to her. 

“Alright, well, you boys enjoy and I’ll be back to check on you,” She says, giving them another smile before she heads over to another table. 

Johnny eyes his burger, suddenly not feeling very hungry, but a voice in his brain that sounds a lot like his mother chides him about wasting food, so he nibbles on his fries, hoping that the salty greasiness might entice his stomach to regain some of it’s hunger. 

Daniel looks about as interested in his food as Johnny is, eyeing his plate like it’s a plate of bugs instead of a plate of fresh french fries and Johnny feels guilt settle in stomach, making him lose what little appetite he did have. 

“Hey,” Johnny says, nudging his foot gently against Daniel’s. 

Daniel looks up, brown eyes guarded, raising a prompting eyebrow when Johnny doesn’t say anything. The truth is, Johnny doesn’t really know _what_ to say, because he doesn't really know _why_ he was so bothered by the suggestion of training with Daniel in the first place. 

Force of habit, maybe. Some misguided sense of loyalty to Cobra Kai, to Kreese, Johnny isn’t sure, but the thought of training with Daniel, under a new sensei, makes him feel panicked, a sense of _too soon too soon_ fluttering around in his belly like nervous butterflies. 

(Johnny can’t help but find the irony in that. The fact that training with Daniel feels like too much, too soon, when not even a week ago healmost used the _L_ word in Tommy’s bathroom, of all fucking places, while people danced drunkenly to _Material Girl_ right outside the door). 

Johnny shakes himself out of his thoughts and decides to just be honest. Or honest as he’s comfortable with, at least. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap, it’s just—“ Johnny swallows, shrugging and gives Daniel an apologetic smile, “—it’s too soon. After everything with Kreese…” Johnny trails off, looking away, throat tightening. “I’m just not ready.”

Warm fingers brush gently over his, caressing the knuckles that are just starting to heel from his fight with Dutch, prompting Johnny to look up. 

Daniel’s eyes are soft with understanding, the flecks of gold shimmering like the chain around his neck in the afternoon sunlight spilling in from the window they’re seated by. The smile on his lips is tentative at the edges, but his grip on Johnny’s hand his strong and sure, grounding like it always is. 

“Hey, it’s fine,” Daniel assures, tone gentle, soothing. “I shoulda been more considerate and that’s my fault, don’t worry about it.”

Not for the first time, Johnny feels a rush of overwhelming gratitude for Daniel’s never ending sense of patience and understanding he seems to have for Johnny and his continuous fuck ups. 

Johnny just prays that Daniel never wakes up one day and decides, just like everyone else, that Johnny isn't worth the time or the energy or the effort anymore. That his time might be better spent elsewhere, with someone else, someone better than Johnny could ever hope to be. 

The thought makes panic bubble up inside Johnny, hot and vicious, but he fights it, unwilling to let it suffocate him and focuses instead, on the feeling of Daniel’s hand in his, Daniel’s fingers brushing across his knuckles in a gentle rhythm. Because Daniel is _here_ and he’s not going anywhere, not anytime soon, at least. 

“It’s cool, you were just trying to help,” Johnny says and giving Daniel’s hand a quick squeeze, he adds, softer, “Thank you.”

Daniel shrugs, but he looks pleased, smiling over a Johnny with his usual crinkle-y eyed smile that always hits Johnny square in the chest with force of it.

“Anytime,” Daniel says sincerely, before he goes back to his plate of fries. “Now,” he says, dipping a fry delicately into his milkshake before he pops it into his mouth. “Did you hear about Ali’s friend Susan?”

Johnny shakes his head, taking a bite of his burger. “No, what happened?”

Daniel’s eyes gleam excitedly as he regales Johnny with the tale that Ali told him in their shared math class, about how Susan apparently got braces over winter break and went to a party the next day and during a game of spin the bottle, her braces got tangled up with the guy she was making out with and some dumbass called 911 to separate them.

They’re both laughing by the time Daniel’s finished telling the story and Johnny feels lighter than he has all day, sitting here, pretending he doesn’t notice Daniel stealing bites of his burger as Johnny tells him about the time Tommy Barbra on a dare and she dumped her drink all over him. He drinks up every laugh and every smile that Daniel shoots his way, glowing with pride every time he hears that breathy chuckle leave Daniel’s lips. It’s warm and soothing and it’s a feeling that lasts for the rest of the day, up until he has to kiss Daniel goodbye for the night with promises to see him tomorrow.

He goes home, to his big empty house and tries to fight sleep for as long as he can, afraid of the dream he knows that awaits him, lurking in the back of his mind like a shadow, the minute he succumbs to the fatigue pulling his eyes closed. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! First off, I'd like to apologize for taking so long with this chapter. My life has been so hectic this week with work and a lot of things going on in my personal life and I've been really overwhelmed. HOWEVER, this chapter is here and it's finished and I'm SO excited to see what you guys think of it. 
> 
> So I know I said that this story was going to develop a lot more towards seeing the boys interact with more of the Cobra's and Ali, but I think I really want to touch on getting through the bulk of Johnny's issues and I have plans for single chapter stories that will expand on their friendships and relationships with other people. 
> 
> That being said, I'm pretty sure there's only going to be one more chapter in this story and then we'll be moving on to other parts. Which I'm so excited to get to. 
> 
> So music was a very heavy influence on this chapter and a few of the songs mentioned are:
> 
> I Want You So Bad by the Beatles  
> Golden Slumbers into Carry That Weight also by the Beatles (i recommend listening to these songs to enhance your reading experience)  
> Follow My Heart by REO Speedwagon (you can't write LawRusso without Speedwagon, I'm pretty sure it's a law) (no pun intended)  
> And towards the end of the chapter, Taylor Swift's Folklore album. Specifically, this is me trying. If you know, you know. 
> 
> All of these can be found here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/43VwgbHi6SsjWJ92M5mD8D?si=1fvBtA1wRqyK8XUd4DG9dQ
> 
> I update this playlist as I go and I'm also terrible at remembering to post it, but it's filled with all the songs that inspire this fic and it's what I listen to when I write, so feel free to peruse :)
> 
> And finally, thank you thank you THANK YOU to each and every one of you that continue to read this story--from reading to comments to kudos--you guys rock and if it wasn't for you guys, I would've given up a long time ago. You guys keep me going. 
> 
> Also: a special shoutout to dancinbutterfly, my sounding board and my cheerleader who helps keep me motivated. Thank you for being you! <3
> 
> And now, without further ado, chapter 2!
> 
> Please excuse any mistakes, I edit my own stuff and sometimes I miss a few things, so sorry in advance!

Johnny should be focused on his Anatomy textbook, he knows this, they have a test on Friday, after all. But he’s too busy staring at Daniel, laid out on the floor next to him, textbook propped up on his knees as he scribbles into his notebook. 

(Johnny’s also exhausted and the last thing he wants to do his study. He woke up, choking on his own breath, at five fucking am, that fucking dream still persistent, no matter how many times he tries to push it to the back of his brain).

With school back in session, Johnny finds himself unable to freely observe Daniel whenever he wants to, without fear of getting caught by someone else. Sure, Bobby’s caught him a few times, but that was _Bobby,_ who, at worst, would smirk knowingly at Johnny and make obnoxious kiss-y faces at Johnny until he threw a balled up piece of paper at his head to get him to stop, which Johnny’s had to do several times already and today is only Tuesday. 

But here, safe in Daniel’s tiny closet of a room, Johnny’s free to look as much as he wants to. Besides, Daniel’s a _much_ prettier sight than the diagram of a woman’s uterus Johnny’s supposed to be studying for their upcoming test. 

There’s a concentrated crease between Daniel’s eyebrows, big brown eyes squinted at his text book as they skim the pages and Johnny wonders if he’s studying the same diagram, because he looks very confused and slightly horrified. He’s murmuring to himself around the pencil he’s chewing on, but Johnny’s pretty sure it’s the lyrics of the Beatles record that’s spinning quietly on the turntable that now lives on Daniel’s desk and not the words from the text book in his lap.

He changed out of his school clothes as soon as they walked through the door and the sleeveless shirt he’s wearing is more like a scrap of fabric held together by the bottom seam and it gaps open, giving Johnny a tantalizing view of Daniel’s tan skin, muscles rippling with each inhale and exhale. His hair is ruffled from running his fingers through it and Johnny feels the burn of arousal in his lower belly, the ache of not being able to touch Daniel for eight hours crashing into him like a wave and he just, _really_ wants to kiss him. 

So, he shoves his text book uncaringly to the side and shuffles closer to Daniel, who looks up from his text book and narrows his eyes in suspicion when Johnny clambers on top of him, straddling his narrow and slightly boney hips.

“Johnny,” Daniel warns, but his lips twitch, totally ruining the exasperated tone of his voice.

_“Daniel_ ,” Johnny says back, voice mocking. 

Daniel rolls his eyes before they fall back on his worn notebook and he begins to scribble down more notes, totally ignoring the fact that Johnny’s sitting across his lap in an obvious invitation and that’s just—not gonna work. 

Johnny pulls Daniel’s text book out of his hands and tosses it on the floor, right next to where Johnny abandoned his. 

“What’re you— _hey_ , I was readin’ that—“ Daniel huffs, annoyed, but Johnny ignores him in favor of sucking a bruise into his jaw, smirking when he feels Daniel inhale a shaky breath. 

“Johnny—we really need to— _ah—_ study,” Daniel says breathlessly, but his fingers tangling into Johnny’s hair betray him. 

“We _are_ studying, Danny,” Johnny counters, teasing his lips over Daniel’s pulse point, humming when he feels if flutter underneath his lips. 

Daniel chest vibrates with laughter and it makes Johnny smile between the kisses he litters down Daniel’s throat, fingers working into the slits of his cut off t-shirt, teasing at the warm skin of Daniel’s ribs, thumbing over a nipple that pebbles at his touch. 

Johnny feels the moan that rips its way out of Daniel’s throat, vibrating against his lips, feels the way his heart stutters and jumps underneath his fingers and it makes Johnny feel powerful, knowing how much his touch affects Daniel. It’s heady and it only deepens his desire for the boy underneath him. 

“I don’t think this is— _oh_ —gonna be on the— _shit—_ test,” Daniel says around a groan.

“The test _is_ on the reproductive system,” Johnny murmurs with a smirk. “We’re just using a more… _practical_ approach.”

Daniel laughter turns into a choked off moan when Johnny sucks at his favorite spot, right underneath his ear and it makes Johnny grin. Daniel tugs at Johnny’s hair in a silent demand and Johnny indulges him, lifting his head to meet Daniel’s lips in a kiss that’s all teeth and tongue. It’s sloppy and inelegant, but Johnny doesn't care—he wants Daniel too much, wants to taste and touch him everywhere, suck bruises into his skin, mark him up and make him his, all _his._

_I want you, I want you so bad_

_I want you, I want you so bad, it’s driving me mad,_

_I want you, I want you so bad._

Daniel must feel it, too, with the way his fingers scrabble to unbutton Johnny’s shirt, groaning when his fingers trace over the bare skin of Johnny’s chest, his abs. Every touch feels electric and it makes Johnny crave _more more more._

Johnny rips Daniel’s shirt the rest of the way, wants it gone and Daniel yanks the now useless scrap of fabric up and over his head, tossing it behind him and their lips meet again, teeth nipping, tongues probing, pants turning into moans when Johnny slots himself between Daniel’s thighs and their erections brush together, the friction making Johnny’s head spin. 

_“Johnny,_ ” Daniel gasps, fingers tightening in Johnny’s hair, tugging him closer, pulling Johnny almost completely on top of him and Johnny follows him down, humming against Daniel’s lips. 

_I want you, I want you so bad,_

_I want you, I want you so bad it’s drivin’ me mad,_

_I want you, I want you so bad_

Their hips fall into an easy grind and _it’s so fucking good,_ Johnny thinks to himself, throwing his head back to groan at the feeling. 

“I want—I want to—“ Daniel pants, whimpering when Johnny changes the rhythm to a slow, tight slide of their hips. “Johnny, I want—“

“What do you want, baby?” Johnny whispers roughly, catching Daniel’s swollen lips in a dirty kiss. 

Daniel groans, low and throaty, lets Johnny have it before he pulls away and meets Johnny’s gaze with heavy lidded eyes that are dark with arousal— _bedroom eyes,_ Johnny thinks to himself, shivering as another bolt of desire shoots down his spine. 

“Want to feel you,” Daniel whispers, cheeks flushing. His fingers toy with the button on Johnny’s jeans, thumb tracing over the outline of his cock and Johnny moans, canting his hips to chase Daniel’s touch. 

Daniel takes that as permission—not that he ever needs it, Johnny trusts him, would let Daniel do just about anything he wanted if it made him happy—fingers popping the button, pulling at the zipper and Johnny helps him shove his jeans down to his thighs, boxers going with them. 

Daniel’s hands disappear and Johnny has to stop himself from whining at the loss, but then Johnny watches as Daniel tugs his sweats down, cock springing free—swollen and leaking like a faucet—and Johnny swallows, heat swimming in his belly because he thinks he knows where this is going—

Daniel’s hand comes to rest on the small of Johnny’s back and he presses _down_ , just as he cants his hips _up_ and—

Pleasure, white hot, ripples down Johnny’s spine as their bare cocks brush together, hot and slick with pre-cum and it’s so… _fuck,_ it’s the best thing Johnny’s ever felt before. 

“Oh _fuck,”_ Johnny gasps, feels Daniel nod, feels his throat bob as he swallows heavily, heart hammering in his chest. 

“Yeah,” Daniel agrees shakily, giving his hips an experimental roll and Johnny has to bite down on Daniel’s shoulder to hold back his moan. 

It doesn’t take them long to fall into a natural rhythm—hips meeting, an easy _push pull_ , _back and forth_ that has Johnny’s belly tightening and stars dancing behind his eyelids like fireworks. It’s not actual fucking, but holy shit is it close to it—and while Johnny’s had sex before, it’s never felt like _this—_ a dizzying amount of want and desire so strong it threatens to knock Johnny to the ground quicker than a crane kick to the face. 

Johnny can feel the heat in his belly, the pleasure coiling like a snake at his spine and he slows his hips to slow, purposeful thrusts that make Daniel’s nails scrape down his back, tiny little pin pricks of pain that only push him closer to the edge. 

“ _Johnny_ ,” Daniel whines, teeth catching his kiss swollen lip. “Johnny, _fuck,_ I’m gonna—“

“Yeah, yeah, baby, me too,” Johnny pants, catching Daniel’s lips in a kiss that’s more sharing breath than actually _kissing,_ but he doesn't care, wants to touch every part of Daniel he can reach.

Johnny feels Daniel’s release before it actually happens—feels the way his cock stiffens, the way the vein pulses, before it gives a final twitch and then Daniel comes, wet and hot between them, some of his release landing on Johnny’s belly and it feels like a brand, makes Johnny’s blood sing, his pulse quicken, chest tightening in possessive satisfaction. 

Pleasure lights up every nerve ending in Johnny’s body, making his toes curl and his grip tighten on Daniel’s hip as he comes, adding to the mess on Daniel’s skin. 

“ _Danny, Danny, Danny,”_ Johnny whispers reverently, body shaking and shivering as he collapses on top of Daniel’s warm and sweaty body. 

He feels wrung out and spent and he hums when he feels Daniel’s fingers comb through his hair soothingly, nails scratching at his scalp. Johnny nuzzles into Daniel’s chest, shivering when the cool metal of his class ring teases over his flushed cheek from it’s position over Daniel’s heart. 

Johnny doesn't know how long they lay there, _Abbey Road_ still playing softly from the record player, but he soaks it in—this simple state of existing with Daniel. It soothes the ache of having to go all day pretending like there was nothing more between them than just a simple rivalry turned into an easy friendship. It’s exhausting, having to carry the weight of getting caught, of someone figuring it out. 

Sometimes, the weight of knowing is too much and the hope of waiting for a day where they can just _be,_ without fear, without ridicule, is too crippling. It almost feels childish to even think about it, let alone allow themselves to dream of being considered normal, one day 

But then Daniel will look up at him, like he is now, like Johnny’s all of the stars and the moon and the sun, wrapped up into one being and it makes that weight a little easier to bear. A little easier to hold. 

Because no one has ever looked at Johnny that way, like his presence in their life _matters._

(Like _he_ matters, but that’s too pathetic for him to even admit to himself) 

Like him just simply being there is enough. 

(That he’s enough. All he’s ever wanted was to be enough for someone)

Daniel’s smile is sleepy and content, eyes heavy, gaze warm as it traces over Johnny’s face, like he can’t get enough of just being able to look; like he wants to commit every feature to memory. Johnny wishes that he could capture this moment, that he could freeze it in time and have it to hold on to; to pull it out and look at whenever the weight of everything presses _down,_ dragging him underneath the current of fear and anxiety he seems to always carry around with him these days. 

When the moments of freedom to just be seem too few and far between. Today is only Tuesday and they still have the rest of the week to go and Johnny doesn't know how they’re going to do it. 

But then Daniel kisses him, slow and sweet and Johnny decides to take it one day at a time. 

_Boy, you’re gonna carry that weight,_

_Carry that weight for a long time,_

_Boy, you’re gonna carry that weight,_

_Carry that weight for a long time_

_*_

The rest of the week continues much like Monday and Tuesday. Johnny wakes up at the same time every day, gasping for air, the dream still flashing through his mind. He’ll stumble to the bathroom, shower and check his neck to make sure there’s no marks, that it was just in his head and not showing up on his body; finish getting ready for school way too early and end up at Daniel’s, also way too fucking early to be passed off as being an early riser, eager to get to school. 

If Lucille notices anything amiss, she doesn’t say anything. She greets him with a smile and whatever breakfast dish she manages to whip up for them, despite the fact she has to leave every morning at six thirty for work. 

She does, however, check in with him before she leaves, eyes roving over his face and Johnny wonders what she’s looking for. When Johnny had come over the day after Christmas, Lucille had fussed over the bruises Sid left behind like a worried mother hen. When she asked what happened, Johnny had just told her that karate training had gotten out of hand. She didn’t look like she believed him, but she didn’t push the issue, either. Johnny had a feeling that she _knew_ and that’s why she never really put up much of a fuss whenever Johnny stayed the night or was there unexpectedly for dinner, even though she was more than aware of what was going on between Johnny and her son. 

Daniel, on the other hand, was getting more and more suspicious as the week went on. He didn’t say anything, but Johnny caught Daniel looking at him sometimes, when he thought Johnny wasn’t looking. Always with this pinched look on his face, like he knew something was wrong but he just couldn’t figure out _what_ it was. 

And he wouldn’t, either. 

Because Johnny had years of learning how to be a good liar. Of pretending things were okay when they were the exact opposite. Johnny had learned a long time ago to cultivate an image that he’s stuck to for the last five years—that he was born into money rather than married into it. That they were this big, happy family whenever they went to the country club or to the countless dinner parties he’d been forced to attend over the years. 

And the thing was, Johnny _is_ fine. Mostly. 

School’s a drag, but at least he’s got Daniel and what’s left of the Cobra’s, (minus Dutch, who’s still locked away for assault). Ali was now hanging off Bobby’s arm and they weren’t like, friends, but friendly enough that they could sit at the same lunch table without it being awkward. Sometimes, Freddy joined them and he and Daniel would sit and talk about soccer and make plans for another day at the beach, once Daniel’s knee got better. 

His mom and Sid were gone until the end of the week, which meant Johnny had the house all to himself, which was fine by him, even if he did spend most of his time at Daniel’s.

Things are good. They’re _fine._

Except for the fact that Johnny keeps waking up at five in the morning, gasping for air and the feeling of hands around his neck, Kreese’s voice in his ear. 

It was only getting worse, too. 

Sometimes, the dream comes early enough that Johnny can soothe himself back to sleep by listening to this Walkman. But now, instead of just that memory haunting his dreams, the memory of Dutch choking Daniel has joined it as well.

Those nights are the worst. Johnny wakes up shaking and gasping, chest clenched with fear and rage and it takes every ounce of self control in him to not run over to Daniel’s to make sure he’s okay. So Johnny can see with his own eyes that he’s alive and unharmed.

But other than that, he’s good. He’s great. He’s _fine._

(He’s not fine, he just doesn’t know how to admit it to himself, let alone someone else).

*

Johnny’s exhausted. He was up all night, plagued by both dreams back to back and he was unable to fall back asleep after waking up to the image of Dutch’s laughing face as he held a lifeless Daniel in his arms for the third time. 

He’d been tempted to say fuck it and stay home, after all, it’s not like anyone was there to stop him. But he’d promised Daniel that he’d take him off campus for lunch today when he came back from his doctors appointment and he didn’t want to let him down. If it hadn’t been for that, Johnny wouldn’t of bothered coming to school at all.

But it’s fourth period and Johnny’s barely able to pay attention to Mrs. Smith drone on about some bullshit Shakespeare play Johnny could give less of a shit about. He’s worried about Daniel, because he said he’d be back in time for their shared third period history class but he wasn’t and there’s only five minutes left before the lunch bell and Daniel’s math class is right across the hall and he hasn’t seen him walk by. 

Not that he’s been looking or anything.

When the bell rings, Johnny’s stomach has twisted into knots and he barely manages a smile in Bobby’s direction when he meets him out the hallway. 

“Hey man, you coming to lunch today?” Bobby asks, falling in step with Johnny as they head towards their lockers.

“Well, I was gonna go with Daniel off campus, but…” Johnny trails off, shrugging, stopping at his locker to drop his books off. 

Bobby sticks his head out from around his own locker, raising an eyebrow. “Trouble in paradise already?”

Johnny slams his locker shut, eyes scanning the hallway worriedly. “Shut up man, Jesus, you trying get us killed or something?” He hisses, fist clenching. 

Bobby’s eyes widen, darting around the busy hallway, where everyone is too busy laughing and gossiping to notice. “Chill man, it was just a joke.”

Johnny clenches his fist even tighter at his sides. “Well, keep your jokes to yourself. Just because you’re okay with it doesn’t mean everyone else is, okay?” He snaps, mind flashing to Dutch, the nasty smile on his face when he called Daniel a faggot. His arms, tight around his throat, Daniel’s red face as he gasps for air, brown eyes pleading for Johnny to do _something._

Bobby places a calming hand on Johnny’s shoulder, foggy blue eyes soft with understanding and apology. “Hey, man, it’s fine, okay? I’m sorry, I just forget sometimes.”

Johnny sneers, shaking Bobby’s hand off of him. “Yeah, well, must be nice.”

Bobby’s eyes flash with hurt and it makes Johnny feel like an ass, but Bobby, used to dealing with Johnny’s unpredictable temper, just squares his shoulders and levels Johnny with a look that says, _we’re gonna talk about this and we’re going to be adults about it._

“What happened with Dutch was awful,” Bobby starts, holding a hand up when Johnny snorts and opens his mouth to butt in, “but Johnny, he’s gone. Locked away. By the time he gets out, we’ll be graduated and off to college and we won’t have to worry about him anymore.” 

Johnny considers this and he feels some of the anger that’s most definitely disguised as fear, loosen its grip around his heart. 

Bobby must see Johnny relax a bit because he presses on, more confidently this time, “Besides, do you really think we’re gonna let anything like that happen again? To Daniel or you?” When Johnny just shrugs, Bobby huffs a laugh. “Johnny, c’mon, do you really think anyone is gonna mess with four black belts and—” his eyebrows furrow, “—what belt is Daniel again?”

Johnny snorts, remembering Daniel’s sheepish admission to Johnny a few weeks into their friendship about how Ali and Mr. Miyagi had procured the black belt he wore during the tournament by questionable means. 

“Mr. Miyagi doesn’t believe in belts,” Johnny says with a roll of his eyes.

Bobby’s eyebrows furrow even more before he shrugs and says, “Well, he managed to beat you, even with a broken knee, so I’d say he can handle himself.”

Johnny rolls his eyes again and opens his mouth to remind Bobby that the kick was illegal, but Bobby ignores him and plows on, “My point is, Johnny, is that no one is going to mess with you guys. And if they do,” Bobby shrugs, but his blue eyes darken dangerously “well, they’re gonna have me, Tommy and Jimmy to deal with.”

And Johnny knows they would in a heartbeat, no questions asked. Because those three had tried their damnedest to help Johnny when Kreese had him in a headlock, choking the life out of him and they stayed with him the rest of the night to make sure he was okay. 

But this is different. This is about JohnnyandDaniel, _together_. Like _together_ together. And it means the world to Johnny that they’ve accepted Daniel into their fold without questions. It also makes him wonder what if. _What if_ Johnny hadn’t been such an asshole those first few months that Daniel was here, if Daniel could’ve worked his way into their group eventually. 

Daniel and Bobby get along like a house fire, just like Johnny knew they would. They have similar interests and similar personalities that drew them easily together and Johnny has a feeling he’d going to live to regret that. It’s going to be like having two Daniel’s around at all times and Johnny can barely handle the one without wanting to rip his hair out. 

Jimmy is the shyest of their group, always the quiet one, always on the outside looking in when it came to their antics. It was something Kreese used to single him out for and Dutch used to pick on him mercilessly for, taunting him and teasing him like the assholes they both were. But Daniel brings him out of his shell in a way none of them ever really could. Jimmy becomes animated whenever Daniel is around and they talk about things like school and comic books and nerdy things that Johnny realizes he may never have been comfortable sharing with the rest of them out of a fear that they’d make fun of him. 

And before Daniel—with Dutch still around and Kreese lurking behind him like a shadow, Johnny realizes that maybe he _would’ve_ made of fun Jimmy, just out of some sick hope of getting approval from either one of them. 

But Daniel is kind to Jimmy and listens to him whenever he goes off about school or a new book he read and Johnny’s caught them trading comics back and forth over the last few days, talking about them at lunch and offering to trade more. 

And Tommy, despite everything with Dutch, likes Daniel. Tommy is sarcastic and he and Daniel can trade barbs back and forth for hours, Johnny is sure, if they wanted to. Tommy is also live and let live, so as long as Johnny is happy, Tommy doesn't really give a shit what he’s doing with his lips or his dick.

Johnny eyes feel suspiciously wet but he blinks it away, rolling his eyes. “Like I need you dorks to defend my honor.”

Bobby just smiles knowingly and Johnny feels a little bit lighter. Especially when Bobby’s gaze moves over Johnny’s shoulder, smile melting into a look of surprise. 

“Well, I’ll be damned. Look who no longer has training wheels.” 

Johnny looks over his shoulder in confusion, heart stopping for a brief moment because that’s Daniel, but he’s actually up right and walking, no longer hunched over a pair of crutches. There’s an uncomfortable, bulky looking brace strapped around his knee and he’s limping, but he’s actually walking towards them, smile threatening to split his face in half.

“Damn straight, now I can kick both of your asses as payback for doin’ this to me,” Daniel sasses back, coming to a stop at Johnny’s side, close enough that Johnny can smell his citrus soap, feel the heat of his body as he leans gently into Johnny’s space and Johnny feels himself settle for the first time all day. 

“Hi,” Johnny says, feeling a stupid smile pulling at his lips but he doesn’t care. 

Daniel smiles right back, practically glowing, he’s so happy. “Hi.” he returns, giving Johnny’s hip a squeeze discreetly, fingers lingering over the waistband of Johnny’s jeans. “Sorry I’m late, they had to fit me for a brace and that took longer than expected.”

“You mean they don’t make braces specifically for people with chicken legs?” Johnny teases, reaching down to brush his fingers over Daniel’s hand, linking their pinkies together, just to touch him, to feel him. 

“Hey, fuck you,” Daniel says without heat, grinning up at Johnny. “My legs may be skinny but they can still pack a helluva kick. You would know.”

Johnny just rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling because Daniel’s _here_ and he’s okay and this day just got _so_ much better.

Bobby’s eyes are bouncing between them, not even bothering to hide his smirk. “Right, well, you two are making me nauseous, so I’m gonna leave before you ruin my lunch,” Bobby teases, before his eyes shift to Daniel and they turn serious when he adds, “I’m really glad you’re gonna be okay.”

Daniel waves him off, but Johnny can see that he looks pleased. “No worries, man. Like I said, I expect a rematch. I want to actually beat you fair and square.”

Bobby rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling as he backs down the hallway. “Name a time and a place, LaRusso and I’m there.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that,” Daniel says, grinning. 

Bobby waves and then he disappears around the corner.

Daniel turns back to Johnny and smiles. “Hi.”

Johnny glances around the hallway and seeing it empty, he chances it, swooping down and capturing Daniel’s lips in a kiss.

“Hi,” Johnny breathes when they part, resting his forehead against Daniel’s.

Daniel looks a bit dazed, but pleased. “Someone missed me.”

Johnny rolls his eyes and fights the urge to shove him into the lockers. A feeling he finds he has to fight often around Daniel.

“In your dreams, LaRusso,” Johnny says, but in his mind he thinks _yes, yes I did._

And judging by the knowing smirk Daniel gives him, he knows it, too. 

*

They swing through a drive thru and grab food before Johnny drives them to a secluded spot a few streets over from the school. 

They sit in Johnny’s car, listening to music while they eat their greasy cheese burgers and extra salty fries. Daniel tells him all about his doctor’s appointment and the progress he’s making with bending and stretching his knee. 

Daniel’s practically glowing, grinning around the straw of his chocolate shake when he tells Johnny that the doctor said he could start practicing karate soon. 

His offer to have Johnny train with him flashes through Johnny’s mind but then Daniel’s leaning over the gear shift and kisses Johnny and the memory slips through his fingers like sand getting swept up in the tide. 

The angle’s weird and the clip for the seatbelt is digging into Johnny’s hip, but he doesn’t care. Daniel tastes salty from the fries and sweet from the milkshake and they’re pressed for time. Johnny wishes they could move this to the back seat and take things further, because he hasn’t seen Daniel all day and he doesn’t know if he can stop kissing him in order to make it back to school. Could care less about going back, especially when Daniel starts kissing his neck and sucking bruises into his skin. 

Johnny brings Daniel’s mouth back to his, fingers sliding into his hair, tugging him closer, wants to feel him everywhere. 

“Johnny,” Daniel pants, warm breath ghosting over Johnny’s lips when they pull away for air, “we have to— _mmmm_ —get back to— _ah, fuck_ —school—“

Johnny groans against Daniel’s neck. “Five more minutes.”

Daniel’s laugh is breathy and Johnny can feel it vibrate against his lips while he sucks a bruise into Daniel’s throat. “Johnny, we have to leave now or else we’re gonna be late.”

Johnny nips his teeth against Daniel’s Adam’s apple, smirking when it makes him moan. “We could always skip the rest of the day.”

Daniel shakes his head, pulling Johnny away from his handiwork, ignoring Johnny’s annoyed sigh. “Can’t, we’ve got a test sixth period.” 

Johnny’s fantasy of brining Daniel back to his house and spreading him out naked on his bed comes to a screeching halt when he remembers the Anatomy test he’s been meaning to study for.

The same test they tried studying for, together, on Tuesday, but they ended up making out and grinding against each other on the floor instead.

Fuck. He’d completely forgotten about it. 

Daniel raises an eyebrow. “Let me guess, you didn’t study?”

Johnny sighs. “No mom, I didn’t study. I’m not a nerd.”

Daniel rolls his eyes, slapping Johnny’s chest. “Don’t be an asshole,” Daniel chides gently. 

Johnny grumbles, but kisses Daniel’s cheek in apology. 

Daniel leans into it, but when Johnny pulls away, that look he’s been giving him all week is in full force. Eyebrows creased, lips pulled down into a frown, brown eyes searching Johnny’s face in concern. 

“Hey, what’s goin’ on with you?” Daniel asks softly. He traces a thumb underneath Johnny eyes, where dark circles have taken up residence and don’t seem to be leaving any time soon. “You’ve been actin’ weird all week.”

Johnny bristles, pulling away from Daniel’s hold and Daniel lets him, hand falling back into his lap.

“It’s nothing,” Johnny lies and it tastes like acid on his tongue.

Daniel doesn’t look convinced, eyes flickering between Johnny’s for a minute before he sighs quietly and gives Johnny a small smile that doesn’t reach his eyes and tinged with so much disappointment, Johnny has to fight to maintain eye contact with him.

“Okay,” he says, even though Johnny knows it’s anything _but_. “We don’t have to talk about it, but just know that you can talk to me,” Daniel continues, voice gentle, big brown eyes full of sincerity. “I won’t push you,” he adds, when Johnny shifts uncomfortably, “But just don’t...push me away, either. Okay?”

Johnny’s heart twists at the vulnerability in Daniel’s eyes and not for the first time, Johnny feels like a complete and total failure when it comes _this._ Daniel deserves _so_ much more than what Johnny can give him and it’s only a matter of time before Daniel figures that out for himself and leaves, just like everyone else in Johnny’s life. 

Johnny swallows back the panic and gives Daniel a smile that probably looks as forced as it feels. 

“Okay,” He agrees, voice barely above a whisper. 

Daniel kisses Johnny like he might break, like if he presses too hard, Johnny might shatter into a million little pieces and a part of him wonders, as Daniel settles back into the passenger seat and Johnny eases them back on to the highway to head back to school, if there’s not some truth to that. 

(Johnny also wonders if it’s possible to break something that’s already broken).

*

When the last bell of the day rings, Johnny doesn’t think he’s ever been more thankful to see a school week come to an end. 

He’s pretty sure he bombed his Anatomy test, Bobby kept shooting him concerned looks in gym, especially when Johnny opted to run the track rather than kick the soccer ball around like they usually do. He wasn’t in the mood to talk and the slap of his feet on the pavement felt good and by the time he ducked into the locker room to shower and change, his muscles ached and his chest burned, but he felt _good_ in a way he hasn't since quitting Cobra Kai.

Bobby had tried catching his eye again, as Johnny was grabbing his things from his locker, but Johnny was saved from a patented Bobby Brown Lecture™ by using Daniel as an excuse to leave early. 

Daniel’s in his usual spot by the window when Johnny walks into the library and he gives Johnny his usual sunny smile that makes his eyes crinkle when he spots Johnny weaving through the tables. It makes Johnny’s heart flip flop pleasantly in his chest and he has to physically restrain himself from ducking down and kissing the smile from Daniel’s lips. 

“You look better,” Daniel comments, closing his book. It’s a new one today— _the Outsiders—_ and he looks like he’s already halfway through it. 

_Nerd,_ Johnny thinks to himself with a fond smile. 

“I ran three miles during gym today,” Johnny says, shouldering Daniel’s backpack without thought, even thought Daniel doesn’t need the assistance anymore.

But it earns him a pleased smile from Daniel, who brushes teasing fingers over Johnny’s hand as he passes him to head out of the library and to his locker. 

“And that’s what got you smilin’ like that?” Daniel demands as he spins the dial with nimble fingers.

“That and the fact that it’s the weekend, we don’t have school for two days and,” Johnny says, lowering his voice, stepping closer to Daniel. “Sid and my mom won’t be back until Sunday. Which means that I have the house all to myself for the next few days.”

“Oh yeah?” Daniel asks, trying for casual, as he closes his locker, books he needs for the weekend in hand, but his eyes are twinkling knowingly as he leans against it, lips twitching into a smile as he raises an expectant eyebrow. “Got any plans?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Johnny sighs, inspecting his nails. “I was thinking of throwing a party. Maybe I could invite a couple of prostitutes, turn it into a business venture, you know.”

Daniel rolls his eyes. “How about we save the risky business ventures to Tom Cruise?”

Johnny sighs again, long and suffering, but there’s a smile tugging on his lips that he can’t fight and doesn’t really want to, if he’s being honest.

“Fine,” Johnny says, all _woe is me,_ pushing off the lockers and walking towards the double doors, to freedom _._ “I guess that means it’s just you and me tonight then. Maybe a movie, some popcorn.”

“Oh, baby, talk dirty to me,” Daniel says as he follows Johnny down the hallway. 

Johnny throws him a wink over his shoulder. “Maybe later, if you’re lucky.”

Daniel laughs, eyes burning bright copper in the late California sunlight as he gazes at Johnny over the roof of the Firebird. It’s unfair, really, how beautiful Daniel is. And it’s time like this, when he’s doing something as mundane as laughing at Johnny’s lame jokes or reading by the window in the library, chewing on a pen cap, that it hits Johnny, just how lucky he is to call something so bright and beautiful, _his._

(For how long remains to be seen, but Johnny will take as much as time as Daniel will give him. Before he wises up and realizes that the world has a lot more to offer than the Johnny Lawrences of the world). 

(It’s also moments like this that, Johnny, selfishly, wishes he never does. Wants to keep Daniel, all to himself, forever). 

“Is this another one of your pre-dates?” Daniel asks as he flips through Johnny’s tape collection, making himself at home in Johnny’s space, like it’s not a big deal that he knows where Johnny keeps his tapes—his most prized possessions, other than his Walkman. 

Anyone else would get their hands slapped away or their fingers slammed in the lid of the center console, where he keeps them in case in anyone walking by his car tries to steal them. 

But like most things, Daniel is the exception to every rule and every boundary Johnny has carefully constructed over the years to keep people at a safe distance. Not even Ali had been allowed touch his tapes, let alone pick the music when the drove anywhere together. 

“Maybe,” Johnny says, as he backs out of the space and eases into the traffic jam that is the student parking lot on a Friday. “If you want it to be.”

Daniel puts in a tape and the opening notes of _Don’t Let Him Go_ comes through the speakers. Johnny hums in approval and begins to tap his fingers along to the beat on the smooth leather of the steering wheel. 

“You know, Johnny, a movie at your house could be a date, I’m not picky,” Daniel says as he leans back in his seat, stretching out his legs in the footwell. 

“I told you—” Johnny says, turning his blinker on. Burbank Boulevard was busy as shit this time of day, from the high school and the middle school letting out at the same time. 

“—that you can do better than a diner on a Monday,” Daniel finishes for him and Johnny doesn't have to look to know that he’s rolling his eyes behind his favorite aviators. “But Johnny, I don’t care where we go, spending time with you is a date to me.”

Johnny chances a glance at him over his own sunglasses. “You haven’t been on many dates then, have you?”

Daniel flushes and his mouth pinches in annoyance. “I’ve been on plenty, thank you very much.”

“Well, you haven’t been on a date with me yet,” Johnny says with an arrogant smirk before he pushes his sunglasses pack up and focuses back on the road. 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re a regular _Don Juan,”_ Daniel teases, leaning back in his seat, hands behind his head, eyes dancing behind the dark lenses of his sunglasses. “You gonna woo me, John?”

Usually, Johnny hates people calling him by his given name—he’s been Johnny for as long as he can remember—but there’s something about the way Daniel says it; the lilt he inflicts in his tone so it comes out as two syllables instead of one. Breathy and rhythmic, singsongy in a way that most people would consider mocking but Johnny can hear the warmth in the cadence of Daniel’s voice. The genuine affection that lies underneath the gentle teasing and it just…no one has ever said his name like that before. 

_Should I follow my head or follow my heart?_

_You’ve got the lead,_

_Baby, I’ve got a start,_

_Should I follow my head?_

_Should I follow my heart?_

Johnny eases to a stop at a red light and leans over the gear shift, into Daniel’s space. He smells spicy and citrusy but Johnny can make out the scent of his own cologne clinging to Daniel’s clothes, on his skin and it makes him want to purr with possessive satisfaction. 

“LaRusso,” Johnny murmurs. “I’m going to woo the _shit_ out of you.”

“Oh yeah?” Daniel whispers and up this close, Johnny can see through the dark lenses of his sunglasses, can see the way Daniel’s eyes are zeroed in on his lips. It makes Johnny smirk. 

“Yeah,” Johnny says, voice low, full of promise. 

“You’re settin’ the bar awfully high here, Johnny,” Daniel warns with gentle teasing. “I’m expectin’ more than just Golf N Stuff and milkshakes afterwards.”

Clearly, Ali had told him about their first date and while Johnny could feel his cheeks flush at the memory—he was sixteen and Ali had a curfew and while maybe it was unoriginal, they had a good time—Johnny can’t help but grin because he has something _way_ better planned for their first date than milkshakes and mini golf. 

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head, LaRusso,” Johnny says confidently. “I’ve got a few other tricks up my sleeve, you just gotta trust me.”

“I do,” Daniel says, without missing a beat, eyes sincere, even through the darkness of his sunglasses. “I trust you, John,” he repeats softly, like he knows, somehow, Johnny may need to hear it again, just to make sure. 

But it also sounds like he’s saying something else, something _more,_ something that sounds an awful lot like _I lo—_

A horn honks and Johnny glances out the windshield to see that the light’s turned green. 

Shaking his head to dismiss the wayward thought, Johnny turns left on Ventura Boulevard and heads towards Reseda. 

_Should I follow my head?_

_Should I follow my heart?_

_Should I follow my head or follow my heart?_

_*_

Johnny doesn't know why he’s so nervous as he waits for Daniel to get here. 

He’d offered to swing back through to Reseda to pick Daniel up, but Daniel, unable to drive for the last two months because of his knee, was eager to get back behind the wheel and drive himself. Johnny had been hesitant— one because Daniel was still limping and Johnny wasn’t sure how well he was going to manage driving, even if it was his left knee that was injured, not his right and two, Johnny enjoyed chauffeuring Daniel around. It was time they got to spend together and Johnny would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the fact that Daniel relied on him for help. 

But Daniel had looked so excited at the thought of driving his car—a car that Johnny would never admit, even on the pain of death, of being jealous of—that Johnny didn’t have the heart to push the matter further. 

Besides, it gave Johnny time to swing by the video store and pick out a couple of movies they could watch and since he was so early, that meant he got first dibs on the good ones before anyone else. He also swung by the grocery store and putting his credit card that Sid paid for to use, he filled the cart up with all sorts of junk food for them to snack on during the movie. He thought about using his fake ID to score some beer but decided against it—he didn’t need to manufacture happiness, not when it was Daniel he was spending time with and besides, Lucille would kill him if she found out he was plying her son with alcohol. Not that he thought Daniel would snitch, but Johnny had a feeling that Lucille would just somehow _know_ they’d been up to no good the next time he saw her and he didn’t want to disappoint her or betray her trust. 

It also gave him time to clean his room and bathroom, swing by the theater room to drop off their snacks and sodas and make sure it was well stocked with blankets and pillows should they want any later on in the night. 

And now, showered and dressed and redressed three separate times to make sure he has the right t-shirt/sweatshirt combo, Johnny finds himself anxiously waiting in the foyer for Daniel to get here. 

He doesn't understand why he’s nervous. They’ve been alone so many times, this shouldn’t be anything new, but Daniel’s never been _here_ before. Johnny’s kept him away from this place to keep him safe from Sid and his hateful comments. Sid was a lot things, but the man wasn’t stupid, he would have no problems sussing out the true nature of their relationship and Johnny wouldn’t let him taint this. 

Johnny wanted one thing in his life that wasn’t mocked or used as a weapon to hurt him. And he never wanted Daniel and Sid in the same room together, not in this life time, no thanks. 

Sid already had his mother, Johnny wasn’t going to let him take Daniel, too.

The doorbell ringing brings Johnny out of his thoughts and he rushes to open the door, nerves melting when he sees Daniel on the other side, duffle bag in one hand, a baking pan in the other. 

“My ma made brownies,” Daniel says, dumping the still warm pan into Johnny’s hands as he steps through the door. 

Johnny groans and has to physically restrain himself from diving head first into the pan. He’s going to have to start running again for real if he wants to keep his hard earned, toned body the way it is. 

“Wow,” Daniel breathes and Johnny looks up from the pan of brownies, to see Daniel, sweeping his gaze over his surroundings with a look of pure awe on his face. 

(Johnny knows the feeling, can remember the first time he ever stepped through the doors of this place, how he was filled with hope at the thought of living in a nice house with nice things and a nice guy that wanted to be his father. How quickly those dreams were shattered like the glass vase he accidentally broke that same day, which resulted in Sid yelling himself hoarse and Johnny hiding in his room so Sid wouldn’t see his tears).

“You know, one thing I’ve never understood about rich people,” Daniel says, running a finger over the mahogany entry table that housed a crystal vase filled with flowers that Johnny’s mother got delivered fresh once a week. “Is the need for all this _space._ Don’t get me wrong, this place is really nice,” he adds, like he’s afraid he’s insulted Johnny in some way, when in reality, Johnny could give a shit less. “But it just seems like a waste, you know? Also, what’s with all the _white_?”

Johnny smiles, affection blooming in his chest, because Daniel’s just as nervous being here as Johnny was about inviting him. He also looks just as out of place here as Johnny imagines he does. But having Daniel here is like having a piece of home in a strange place and Daniel looks like _home_ in his worn sweats and the same red hoodie he wore that night on the beach, the first time their paths crossed. 

But this time, when Johnny grabs him by front of the soft material, it isn’t to ask him if he’s had enough, to admire the bruises he pressed into the tan skin with his angry fists. It’s to pull him closer so he can press his lips against Daniel’s waiting and pliant mouth, to step into his space and absorb his warmth that he gives off like a furnace, feeling the rest of the nervous knots in his belly, loosen and settle when he inhales Daniel’s scent, feels his pulse beat a lively rhythm against his thumb when he cups Daniel’s jaw, palm resting against Daniel’s neck. 

“Hi,” Johnny breathes when they part, smiling at Daniel’s glazed eyes and dazed expression. 

“Hi,” Daniel returns, placing another kiss to Johnny’s lips, soft and sweet. “Miss me?”

Johnny smiles, taking Daniel’s hand and leading him up the stairs. “In your dreams, LaRusso.”

_Always,_ he wants to say, but doesn’t, as usual.

But he catches the knowing look Daniel shoots him and he knows, also as per usual, Daniel hears it anyway. 

He tosses Daniel’s stuff in his room, letting him poke around at his stuff and snoop for a few minutes before he tugs him down the hallway, to the theater.

Daniel whistles, eyes flickering over the room—taking in the large projector screen, the two large leather sectionals that act as theater seats, the shelves crammed with VHS tapes, the honest to god popcorn machine in the corner—in disbelief. 

“Sid’s a movie producer,” Johnny explains, gesturing to the framed movie posters that line the walls—posters from _actual_ movie premiers. “It’s how he got all this equipment.”

“Huh,” Daniel says, eyeing the poster for _Some Like It Hot._ Marilyn Monroe, tits teasing out of the top her dress, winks at them with knowing blue eyes. Johnny used to think she was hot, until he got older and realized she bore a striking resemblance to his mother. “If the guy wasn’t such an asshole, I’d say that’s cool, but, well, he’s an asshole, so,” Daniel wrinkles his nose, raising his chin haughtily, “I’ve seen better.”

Johnny snorts, shaking his head, but he can’t help the fond smile that dances on his lips as he leads Daniel to the couch, shoving him gently down on the supple leather. 

Gesturing to the stack of VHS tapes on the floor, Johnny says, “Pick one.”

He hadn’t been sure what to get, so he picked up a variety of movies that he thought Daniel might like that also happened to be some of Johnny’s favorites. 

Daniel considers them with a level of seriousness that Johnny secretly finds cute, reading the backs of the ones Johnny assumes he hasn't seen, eyeing the horror movies with a look of trepidation and when he gets to the last one, a small, knowing smile dances across his face when he looks up at Johnny. 

“Really?” Daniel asks, holding the tape up, amused. “ _Rocky III_?”

Johnny shrugs, but there’s a smirk on his face when he takes it, tracing his thumb over the cover. “What can I say, LaRusso, the plot sounded familiar.”

Daniel rolls his eyes. “I don’t remember Rocky and Apollo making out at the end of the film.”

Johnny wiggles his eyebrows. “I’m sure we’ve got a video camera around here somewhere. Maybe later we can film the director’s cut .”

“As long as I get to be Rocky,” Daniel says, snatching the tape back from him, cheeks flushed an arousing shade of pink.

“Why do you get to be Rocky?” Johnny demands, petulant.

Daniel throws him a _duh_ look before he goes back to examining another movie. “Because Philly’s closer to Jersey _and,_ ” Daniel adds, when Johnny opens his mouth to protest because no _way_ is Johnny losing out on this because of _geography,_ “Rocky was clearly the underdog. I mean, the guy was an amateur boxer who gets put in the ring with a professional who’s got an ego the size of the entire state of California. And he wins. Besides,” He adds, holding up the cover, so it’s next to his face, “I’m basically Sylvester Stallone.”

“Yes, because I look so much like Carl Weathers,” Johnny says dryly, yanking the movie out of Daniel’s hand and tossing it back into the pile of movies. 

Whatever, he didn’t want to be Rocky anyway. Besides, everyone knows Apollo was _way_ cooler.

Daniel smirks in victory and hands him _Airplane!_ in a silence that feels gloating. Johnny takes it, nodding his approval, popping it in the VHS player before he settles down next to Daniel on the couch, who doesn't hesitate to snuggle into his side. Johnny smiles, tossing a blanket over their bodies before he wraps an arm over Daniel’s shoulders, pulling him closer, absorbing his warmth. 

“Hey,” Daniel whispers, as the opening credits start, breath tickling Johnny’s neck. “Just so you know, I wouldn’t want anyone else to by my Apollo.”

The admission is cheesy and honestly, the worst line Johnny’s ever heard, but it’s said so shyly and so earnestly, it makes Johnny’s belly _swoop_ and his chest warm anyway. Even if he is stuck with being Apollo in this scenario. 

“Well, I guess that means you make a pretty good Rocky, LaRusso,” Johnny whispers back, affection blooming tender and hopeful when Daniel beams up at him, kissing his cheek before his eyes settle back on the movie. 

*

After _Airplane!_ , Johnny orders pizza and they eat it on the floor of the theater as they debate which movie to watch next. Daniel decides that they should trade back and forth, so Johnny opts for _Scarface_ and they end up making a fort on the floor of pillows and blankets and they lay together, Daniel’s head on Johnny’s chest, Johnny’s fingers in Daniel’s hair as they watch Al Pacino spray people with bullets and snort copious amounts of cocaine. 

Johnny’s seen the movie so many times that he can quote it and when he glances down at Daniel, he’s watching him with those unfathomably dark eyes instead of the movie playing on the screen, a secret smile curling at the edges of his plush lips.

“What?” Johnny whispers, cheeks flushing.

Daniel shakes his head, exhaling a soft laugh that brushes against Johnny’s cheek in a warm caress. 

“Nothin’, it’s just—“ Daniel pauses, looking away, teeth tugging on his lower lip and Johnny’s focus is no longer on the movie, it’s on those lips, stained red from the spicy cinnamon candy Daniel loves. When he glances back up at Johnny, there’s a look in eyes that’s Johnny’s never seen before and it makes his pulse quicken. “—you make me really happy,” Daniel murmurs shyly, eyes tracing over Johnny’s face like he wants to commit every feature to memory. 

Johnny swallows, stomach twisting and untwisting into knots. But like, the _good_ ones. Like the kind you get when you’re going _up up up_ on a rollercoaster, right before the drop. It’s a mixture of fear and excitement and adrenalin and it’s… _heady._

The moment also feels important, weighted, like something is going to happen, like they’re on the precipice of _something_ and Johnny is both equal parts terrified and exhilarated.

Johnny searches his face, taking in the affectionate smile on Daniel’s lips, the way his eyes have gone sleepy and content at the edges, like what he just said isn’t something monumental and life changing. At least for Johnny. 

“You make me really happy, too, Danny,” Johnny whispers back, painfully honest.

Daniel smiles and leans up at the same time Johnny leans down and they meet in the middle, kisses soft and tinged with words they haven’t said but know to be true down their bones.

On the screen above them, it’s that famous scene where Tony and Manny are riding back from their first meeting with Frank, which is also the first time Tony laid eyes on Elvira and he says to Manny, all confident and cocksure:

“That chick he’s with, I think she likes me.”

And Manny goes, “How do you know?”

And then Tony grins knowingly and says all sagely, “It’s the eyes _Chico,_ they _never_ lie.”

And when Johnny pulls away from Daniel’s lips to take a breath, their eyes meet and he swears, in that moment, he can see every thought, every emotion swirling around in those dark chocolate depths. It’s overwhelming and it’s scary and it’s everything Johnny’s always wanted but never really allowed himself to hope for.

Because if what Tony Montana said was right, then that look in Daniel’s eyes—the way they crinkle at the corners when he smiles, soft and fond, up at Johnny, like Johnny’s everything he’s ever wanted in the world and he can’t believe he gets to keep him all to himself—means that Daniel _loves_ him. 

And God help him, does Johnny love him right back.

*

“Is that all you got, LaRusso?” Johnny demands, laughter bubbling, bright and warm in his chest as he ducks and dodges Daniel’s fists, blocking a nasty hit aimed for his jaw. 

Daniel’s cheeks are flushed under his tan complexion and he huffs a frustrated breath, but his eyes are glimmering with excitement when they meet Johnny’s across the mat as he shuffles away from Johnny’s counter attack. 

“I don’t know, Johnny,” Daniel says, a bit breathless as he falls into his fighting stance. His eyes shine with challenge when he says, with his usual Jersey pomp and flare, “Why don’t you come over here and see for yourself?”

Johnny can feel his answering smirk dance across his face as he executes a perfect hook kick to Daniel’s torso that he neatly dodges and answers with a round house kick that brushes Johnny’s pant leg as he narrowly avoids it, shuffling out of the way at the last minute before it can land. 

It’s a game of push, pull, back and forth, block, dodge, kick, punch, offense, defense and Johnny can feel the ache in his muscles, the burn and stretch as they go round and round, trying to find an opening in each other’s defenses. 

It’s Johnny that finds it, when Daniel tries for a front kick with his left leg that Johnny stops by grabbing Daniel’s ankle and the familiar position makes them both pause, panting and sweating with exertion. Daniel swallows heavily, leg tensing in Johnny’s grasp as the memory flickers, unbridled, in both of their minds: Johnny’s elbow jabbing into the wounded flesh, the crunch of muscle and cartilage as it gave underneath the force of Johnny’s blow. 

Johnny opens his mouth to apologize, for the millionth time, grip gentling around Daniel’s ankle, giving him the choice to twist free, showing him the mercy he should’ve shown him the first time they met on the mat. 

But Daniel doesn't take it. 

Instead, Daniel pushes his foot into Johnny’s chest and using that asmomentum, he brings his other leg up and wraps it around Johnny’s, their combined weight sending them tumbling to the mat in a heap of limbs and breathless laughter. 

Daniel rolls over and straddles Johnny’s hips, brown eyes gleaming with his victory as he blinks down at Johnny with those mile long lashes.

“I won,” Daniel breathes triumphantly, hands resting over Johnny’s racing heart. “What’s my prize?”

Johnny hums, eyes sweeping over Daniel’s sweat darkened hair, his flushed cheeks, the tantalizing view of glistening tan skin from the part in his white gi. 

“Well, I’m all out of trophies,” Johnny says, resting his hands possessively on Daniel’s hips. 

“Guess it’s a good thing I want something else, then,” Daniel says, fingers teasing the opening of Johnny’s black gi. 

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” Johnny asks, shivering when Daniel’s fingers brush over his bare chest, callouses dragging deliciously against the sweaty skin.

“You,” Daniel whispers, grinding his ass against Johnny’s half hard cock. Even through the fabric of their gi’s, Johnny can feel the heat of Daniel’s skin against his cock and it makes him groan under his breath, want thrumming in his veins that matches the want simmering in Daniel’s eyes. 

“Johnny,” Daniel murmurs, an unspoken request that Johnny answers by leaning up and catching Daniel’s lips in a kiss that’s all heat and desire, teeth and tongues and push and pull and back and forth. 

It’s a different kind of fight, one that Johnny doesn't mind surrendering to and he does so happily, letting Daniel tangle his fingers in Johnny’s hair, lets him tangle his tongue with Johnny’s, lets him angle his head the way he wants to, let’s him have free reign over his body to do as he pleases. 

He loses himself in Daniel; in his touch, in his kiss, his weight in Johnny’s lap. Daniel makes a choked noise against Johnny’s lips and Johnny hums, pressing closer, but Daniel disappears from his lap, leaving Johnny cold and confused. 

He blinks his eyes open and startles when his own reflection blinks back at him from a wall of mirrors. A _familiar_ wall of mirrors. 

_What the fuck?_

He turns, mouth opening to call out for Daniel, but the words die in his throat when he takes in his surroundings. The white mats, the red carpet, the smell of burnt popcorn and sweat, the trophies that glitter menacingly from their position along the shelf. 

Panic wells, alarm bells ringing in the back of his mind, screaming at him to get out, to leave, to run before it’s too late. 

A choked noise pulls his attention to the left, to the line of carpet that’s as red as blood pouring from an open wound and all the breath leaves his lungs when he sees Dutch, his arm around Daniel’s throat, face twisted into an ugly smirk. 

“Well, well, well, look who it is!” Dutch sing songs, eyes bright with demented glee. “Johnny-boy, I’m so glad you decided to join us. Me and _Danny_ were starting to get worried about you, weren’t we, cream puff?” Dutch coos, trailing a finger down Daniel’s cheek. 

Daniel squirms, whimpering, trying to get away and Johnny sees _red._

“Let him go, Dutch or I swear to god—“ 

“—you’ll what?” Dutch demands, tightening his grip around Daniel’s neck. “You’ll _tell_ on me? You’ll kick my ass? What _are_ you gonna do?”

Johnny’s fists clench at his sides, but just as he steps forward to knock that smirk right from Dutch’s face, hands, harsh and tight, wrap around his throat, cutting all the air off from his lungs and Johnny flails, trying to break free, but all it does is make the hands squeeze harder. 

“Easy, Mr. Lawrence,” Kreese murmurs, breath stained with the pungent odor of tobacco. “We’re only teaching you a lesson.”

Johnny feels chills race down his spine and he struggles, kicking his legs desperately, fists swinging, but his limbs feel heavy, weighted down and the more he fights, the more tired he feels. 

_Johnny, wake up,_ a voice whispers.

He can hear the cruel laughter from Dutch, the soft, mocking chuckles that rumble like thunder from Kreese’s chest as they watch him squirm and fight against the chokehold. His heartbeat is loud in his ears and it echoes like the worst kind of feedback through his brain as he tries to scramble his thoughts together. He has to get out of this, he has to save Daniel—

_Johnny, wake up_

—but Daniel’s already on the floor, his brown eyes, that are usually so bright and warm with life, stare unblinkingly back at Johnny as he lays, limp and crumpled, on the sea of red carpet that looks like blood and _no no no—_

A scream builds in Johnny’s throat, but it stays trapped in his windpipe and Dutch laughs, loud and maniacal and there’s blood on his hands, _why is there so much blood—_

_Johnny!_

“I warned you, Johnny-boy, I warned you that you and your little faggot ass girlfriend were dead,“ He snarls, kicking Daniel’s lifeless body for emphasis and Johnny’s vision blurs with tears. 

_Johnny!_

_Johnny!_

His lungs burn, his limbs are on fire and his vision swims but all he can think is _Daniel,_ wants to scream it, _Daniel, wake up, wake up baby, c’mon, baby, this isn’t real, DanielDaniel—_

_“I don’t allow faggots in my dojo, Mr. Lawrence.”_

_*_

_“Johnny!”_

Johnny startles awake, lungs burning, limbs shaking and sweaty, chest burning like he’s been held underwater, heart hammering with fear and adrenalin. The room is dark and cold and Johnny can’t see, he can’t see anything, but he knows someone’s here, can feel them next to him, can hear them breathing and he tenses, fists clenching and he doesn't think, he just swings and he feels the bed shift and someone grab his wrist, _no no no no—_

“Johnny, you’re okay, it’s okay, lemme—“

_—wait,_ he knows that voice, he knows it better than his own, but it can’t be, Daniel’s dead, he’s _gone—_

“—just hang on, baby, I’m right here, you’re okay—“

— _Dutch’s face, laughing, as he stands over Daniel’s body, have to get to Daniel, have to save him, but something’s holding him back, he can’t move, he can’t breathe—_

“—Johnny, can you hear me? It’s okay, it’s just me, no one else is here, it’s just me, babe, it’s just me, you’re safe—“

— _Kreese, laughing, as he holds Johnny back, forces him to watch, please don’t make me watch, DanielDanielDanielDanielDaniel—_

Hands, soft and warm, cup his face, he knows these hands, knows the dips and grooves, but it’s not true, it can’t be true—

“Johnny,” the voice whispers. “Johnny, open your eyes, baby, look at me—“

“It’s not real, you’re not real,” Johnny whispers, voice shaking, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“I’m very real, I promise,” the voice insists. “Open your eyes, babe and you can see me, I promise.”

“I—I can’t—I don’t—I can’t—“ Johnny gasps, hands scrabbling to his chest, because he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe—

—but those hands grab his and hold them, intertwining them with Daniel’s, but it’s not Daniel, because he’s not here, he’s _gone, he’s gonegonegone—_

“Johnny,” Daniel whispers, pleading but it’s not Daniel, it’s _not_ — “Johnny, baby, you’re okay, I’m right here, no one’s going to hurt you, I promise. Just open your eyes, I’m right here, I promise.”

“You went away, you—Dutch—you—this isn’t real—“ Johnny cries, shakinghis head wildly, closing his eyes tighter. 

“Trust me,” Daniel murmurs softly. “Just trust me, Johnny. Open those beautiful eyes for me, please, baby.”

Johnny whimpers, torn, because _what if_ it’s not Daniel, _what if_ it’s Kreese or Dutch, tormenting him, he can’t look, doesn’t want to see Daniel’s body, his lifeless eyes—

— _but what if it is Daniel?_ a voice whispers, _what if it is, what if he’s alive, what if what if what if—_

There’s something warm underneath his palm, warm and smooth and strong. There’s also something cool and it _clinks_ when Johnny moves his hand, trying to feel without seeing and then he feels it—a heartbeat, strong and steady, beating a gentle rhythm underneath his fingers and he knows that heartbeat, too. Knows it like his favorite song, knows it better than his own. 

Johnny opens his eyes, slowly, hesitantly and he chokes on a sob when eyes, big and brown, meet his. 

Because Daniel’s _here_ , he’s _here_ and he’s _alive_ and whole and he’s okay, he’s _okay_ —

“There you are,” Daniel murmurs, reaching out a gentle hand to cup the side of Johnny’s face, calloused thumb brushing his tears away. “You’re okay, Johnny, it’s okay.”

“Daniel,” Johnny whispers in a mixture of relief and disbelief. 

Daniel smiles, but his eyes are suspiciously wet and a little too bright. “That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”

Johnny chokes out a half laugh, half sob and buries his face in Daniel’s chest, right over his heartbeat, the soft _thump thump thump_ soothing and reassuring, because Daniel’s okay, he’s here and whole and alive and it’s—

Desperation claws at Johnny’s chest, wild and overwhelming and he lifts his head, hands sliding into Daniel’s hair and he crashes their lips together, rough and brutal and he just—he _needs_ to feel, needs to feel Daniel, underneath him, warm and whole and _alive—_

Daniel places calming hands on Johnny’s chest, gently pushing him away. “Johnny,” Daniel whispers. “We shouldn’t, we need to talk about this—“

Fear grips Johnny’s heart, mind flashing to his dream, his _nightmare_ and he shakes his head, kissing Daniel again, hoping to distract him, because he doesn’t want to talk, he doesn’t want to admit that he’s too weak to fight this battle himself. 

And it works, kind of. 

Daniel kisses him back, soft, sweet, coaxing Johnny to calm down, hands cupping Johnny’s jaw, thumbs brushing back and forth, back and forth, over his cheeks, tenderly, lovingly and Johnny feels a burning sensation in his eyes, a lump in his throat. 

“I’m right here, Johnny,” Daniel murmurs against his lips. “I’m right here and I’m not goin’ anywhere. You’re safe, baby, you’re okay.”

“Danny,” Johnny whispers brokenly, pleadingly. “Please, I need—“

His throat closes up and it’s like he back in his dream, Kreese’s hands around his neck, tight and unforgiving and he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe—

“What do you need, baby? What can I do?” Daniel asks, brushing his thumbs soothingly over Johnny’s cheeks, catching the tears that keep spilling from his eyes no matter how hard he tries to fight them. 

“You, please, I need—“ Johnny swallows, taking a shaky breath and tries again. “I need you, Danny, please. I need you.”

The admission feels like razor blades dragging across open wounds and he can feel his face burn in shame and embarrassment at being so fucking weak, but he’s so _tired._ He’s fucking exhausted and so fucking sick of trying to pretend that he’s okay, that he doesn't need Daniel, that he doesn’t need help, that he’s not completely and utterly fucked up. 

But Daniel—beautiful, sweet, loving, caring, _Daniel—_ just grips him tighter, like if he tries, he can hold Johnny together by sheer force of will alone. 

And knowing how stubborn and bullheaded Daniel is, he probably could. And he would, too, if Johnny asked him to. 

“I’m right here, Johnny,” Daniel vows fiercely and his tone books no argument. “I’m not goin’ anywhere. I _promise_.”

And Johnny believes him, despite that little voice in his head that tells him he shouldn’t. 

(That voice, now that he thinks about it, sounds a lot like Kreese and for the first time in a long, _long_ time, Johnny tells it to fuck off. And it does, evaporating like puddles after a long day of rain. 

And it feels like a victory. A small one. But a victory, nevertheless). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for reading, let me know what you think :)
> 
> Chapter 3 is not written yet but I have it mapped out and I will try super hard to have it up soon. 
> 
> Until next time <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies! First of all, I owe you all a HUGE apology for taking so long to update this. This last month of my life has been a rollercoaster and writing fell on the back burner. I was super busy with work, I went on vacation to visit family and then got sick and on top of all of that, my mental health was not great. I was wiped out, physically, mentally and emotionally and for me, writing in that head space doesn't produce good results. 
> 
> I think I also got a bit burned out with this series--it's been my main focus for months and this installment has seriously been a labor of love. This chapter alone went through a lot of changes and I went down a lot of avenues and wrote and re-wrote it so many times until I finally found my groove and got it where I wanted it. There's only going to be one more chapter to this story and after that, I plan on taking a break from this series. I do have plans to continue it, but I have other projects that I want to work on and I think I need to step away from this series after this story is complete. I want to grow and stretch my wings in this fandom and I currently have about three or four open documents that are in various stages of completion for this fandom and I really want to get them out into the universe because I'm so excited for you guys to read them.
> 
> Thank you guys--from the bottom of my heart, for the continued love and support on this story. You guys welcomed me into this fandom with open arms and have honestly blown my expectations for this series completely out of the water. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think my little series would be as popular as it is and I owe that all to you guys. 
> 
> A special thank you to dancinbutterfly, who's been my cheerleader and sounding board over the course of this series and a total savior when it came to this chapter. You are amazing and I couldn't do this without you. 
> 
> I was so anxious to get this chapter out to you guys that it's getting posted completely unedited, so there's going to be plenty of mistakes but I plan on coming back in tomorrow and cleaning up any boo boos that slipped past my cursory glance. I just didn't want to have to make you guys wait any longer, so, without further ado, here's chapter 3! :)
> 
> The playlist for this series can be found here:https://open.spotify.com/playlist/43VwgbHi6SsjWJ92M5mD8D?si=1fvBtA1wRqyK8XUd4DG9dQ
> 
> I add songs to this every chapter and it's got all the songs included in the series. Enjoy :)

Johnny wakes with his head resting on a warm, bare chest and fingers stroking rhythmically through his hair, brushing through the sleep tangled strands with a gentleness that almost succeeds in soothing him back to sleep. 

He nuzzles into Daniel’s chest, teasing his lips over the sleep-warm skin that smells like his own body wash and Daniel’s earthy scent—a heady mixture of pine and citrus—and it makes Johnny hum with satisfaction, belly heating with arousal. He works his way up Daniel’s chest, scraping his teeth over Daniel’s fluttering pulse point, over the soft skin of his jaw before capturing Daniel’s lips in a kiss that’s filled with intent. 

But rather than the eager response Johnny is expecting, Daniel kisses him back almost passively, meeting Johnny’s attempts to deepen the kiss with an almost half-heartedness that makes Johnny pull away, eyebrows furrowing in concern and confusion. 

“What’s the matter?” Johnny asks, flickering worried eyes over Daniel’s face. 

Daniel’s teeth sink almost immediately into his bottom lip, a nervous tick that makes dread pool in the pit of Johnny’s belly, killing off any arousal he might’ve had. 

“Danny, what—“ Johnny starts, worry trickling into his veins, making his heart beat quicken, but Daniel just shakes his head, placing a gentle finger over Johnny’s lips, cutting him off silently. 

“I think we need to talk,” Daniel murmurs, brown eyes wide and nervous as they flicker between Johnny’s. 

“You breakin’ up with me, LaRusso?” Johnny asks, trying for joking, but the words send a cold bout of fear racing down Johnny’s spine and his grip on Daniel’s bare hip tightens almost unconsciously. 

Daniel’s eyes widen in alarm. “Oh God, no, nothin’ like that!” He hastens to explain, voice earnest and it makes some of the tension ebb from Johnny’s muscles. “No, Johnny, I’m not—I’m not breakin’ up with you. No, that’s—shit, I didn’t mean to—“

“Relax, Danny,” Johnny says with a roll of his eyes, but there’s no denying the relief that sweeps over him at Daniel’s assurances. “I was just messing with you.”

_Kind of_ , he thinks, but doesn’t say. 

“Right,” Daniel says and Johnny knows just by his tone alone that he doesn’t buy into Johnny’s bullshit. It’s only confirmed when Daniel adds, with a sly little smirk on his face that Johnny wants to either punch or kiss away, “Is that why you’re currently pinning me to the bed? Because you were just messing with me?”

Johnny can feel the flush on his cheeks, but he just smirks right back, wiggling his eyebrows. “Maybe I just like having you underneath me. Ever think of that?”

Daniel rolls his eyes, but a blush blooms like a rose over his tan complexion, staining his cheeks a lovely shade of pink. “I get it, you only want me for my body.”

“And other things,” Johnny says with a cheeky smile, grinding his hips for emphasis, smirking when Daniel’s eyes darken, a blush working it’s way down his cheeks to his neck, his chest and Johnny follows it with his lips; teasing over the flush warm skin with nips and kisses.

“That’s still— _ah_ —part of my body, genius,” Daniel says breathlessly, tangling his fingers in Johnny’s hair, watching with heavy lidded eyes as Johnny goes _lower,_ working his way down Daniel’s chest, flicks a teasing tongue over his nipple, smirking when Daniel’s hips stutter up, breath leaving his lips in a surprised gasp. 

“Trust me, _Danielle,_ I’m aware,” Johnny says with a grin, gripping Daniel through his boxers. “But getting to use it—“ he sneaks a hand underneath the waistband, fingers clasping over the heated skin of Daniel’s erection, giving it a loose stroke, “—well, that’s my favorite part.”

“Johnny—“ Daniel breathes, half-protest, half-whine for more. 

Johnny knows he’s playing dirty, but he knows what Daniel wants to talk about. As much as he wishes he didn’t, Johnny can remember last night with perfectly clarity; the fear and the panic, the _realness_ that scared him down to his bones that Daniel was gone and never coming back. He can remember waking up, shaking and crying and utterly terrified to open his eyes in case he saw Daniel’s lifeless eyes, his lifeless body and it’s just—Johnny doesn't want to think about it. Doesn’t want to talk about it, doesn’t want to relive it, doesn’t want Daniel—sweet, loving, caring, _Daniel_ —trying to fix him. 

So, Johnny captures Daniel’s lips with his and tries to distract him with his heated touches and even filthier kisses—teeth and tongue and heat, pressing his body closer to Daniel’s, lips demanding and rough with just enough sweetness to soften the force of his desperation to forget; to lose himself in Daniel’s body and chase away the demons that threaten to drown him. 

A gentle, but firm hand presses against his chest, but Johnny ignores it, kissing Daniel harder, stroking him faster, trying to coax Daniel’s attention away, back to the moment, but Daniel squirms, insistent, trusting Johnny to understand what he’s asking and that—that’s enough to get Johnny to pull away, loosening his grip of Daniel’s dick like it’s caught fire, a mixture of shame and embarrassment washing over him, hot and stifling. 

Daniel doesn't let him go far; grabbing Johnny’s hand and tangling it with his own, he brings it to his lips and kisses Johnny’s knuckles, eyes forgiving, silently accepting the apology that Johnny can’t even bring himself to say, can’t get out because of the knot in his chest and the bile rising in his throat. 

“Johnny,” Daniel says, voice low, soothing. “It’s okay. We’re okay, I’m okay. You’re okay.”

Johnny snorts derisively, shaking his head. “Nothing about this is okay.”

“You did nothing wrong,” Daniel assures, brushing his fingers through Johnny’s hair. “I just wanted talk before I got too distracted, that’s all.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Johnny says, ignoring the disbelieving eyebrow Daniel gives him. “There’s not,” he insists, which only makes the eyebrow tick higher. 

“Johnny,” Daniel says, in a way that someone might say _and denial is only a river in Egypt._ In other words, Daniel’s totally not buying into whatever brand of bullshit that Johnny’s trying to sell him. “You know that’s not true.”

Johnny huffs, annoyed. “Look, can we not turn this into the _Oprah_ show or whatever? So I had a nightmare, big deal, everyone gets them.”

“So, you _don’t_ think it’s a big deal that you dreamed that I died? Or that it took me almost ten minutes to wake you up and another ten minutes to convince you that Dutch didn’t manage to kill me?” Daniel demands, heavy on the sarcasm. 

Johnny swallows heavily, but stubbornly refuses to answer. 

Daniel sighs, sounding and looking so tired and worn out that it makes Johnny wonder, suddenly, just how long Daniel’s been up; if he managed to fall back asleep or if he stayed awake, worrying and wondering just how to approach this topic without Johnny biting his head off. 

Guilt settles like a lead balloon in Johnny’s belly and he finds it difficult to look at Daniel and the dark shadows that mar the delicate skin underneath his eyes. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

It’s said so softly, Johnny wonders if he imagined it, but when he chances a glance at Daniel, it’s to find those brown eyes watching him expectantly, an odd vulnerability making it harder for Johnny to dismiss the question outright. 

Harder, but not _impossible._

So, Johnny just shrugs, fingers toying with his ring resting over Daniel’s heart for something to do, worrying it like a touchstone. It helps ground him, giving him something to focus on besides the knots of anxiety twisting like poisonous vines around his heart and his chest, making it harder to breathe, harder to think.

“I could’ve helped you,” Daniel continues gently, when he realizes Johnny’s not going to answer. “We could’ve talked about it—“

“Oh yeah? You a therapist now?” Johnny demands and it shocks him with just how _venomous_ the words sound—they’re positively _dripping_ with distain and scorn. The urge for a fight, even if it’s just verbal, makes Johnny’s heartbeat quicken and his muscles tense, thrumming with adrenalin. _Fight or flight_. “Gonna psychoanalyze me and tell me just how crazy you think I am?”

Daniel doesn’t rise to it, just stares back at Johnny with an air of calm that only serves to piss Johnny off even more. 

“I don’t think you’re crazy, John,” Daniel says, voice irritatingly coaxing and soothing, like Johnny’s some wounded animal stuck in a trap and Daniel’s the innocent bystander with only good intentions. _Easy, I’m not gonna hurt you. I just wanna help._ “I think something really shitty happened to you and your body’s just trying to process—“

Johnny scoffs, rolling off Daniel’s body and the bed in one clean swoop, intent on getting as far away as possible—from this conversation and Daniel’s big Bambi eyes that are soft with understanding and hell bent on repairing the damage he didn’t cause, because that’s just the kind of person Daniel is. 

Which only irritates Johnny further, so he does what he does best: he pushes even harder, pressing into the spots he knows will hurt and bruise. 

“What’s there to process? Kreese got the drop on me and tried to choke me out—big fucking deal, I’ve dealt with worse. It’s not the first time someone’s put me in a chokehold, LaRusso. That’s a warm up compared to some of the training we used to do—something _you_ wouldn’t understand considering your training is all about trimming bonsais and pussyfooting around, waiting for your enemy to attack you.”

“Oh yeah? Well, in that case, tell me, _Johnny_ ,” Daniel demands, forced casual, but his eyes are glinting like a bronze statue: all hard edges and angles and shimmering with anger. “How’s your face doing? Has it healed yet from being acquainted with my foot? Maybe I should ask the trophy that’s sitting on my desk, _you know_ , the one that has my name on it, right underneath the words ‘All Valley’ and ‘Champion’—“

“Fuck you, that kick was illegal and you know it!” Johnny snaps for what feels like the millionth time. 

“Well, I guess you’d know all about illegal hits, wouldn’t you, Johnny?” Daniel snipes back, giving Johnny a smile that’s anything but nice. 

It’s a low blow and it hits Johnny right in the chest, knocking all the air out his lungs and threatens to send him to the floor with the force of it. Instead of apologizing like Johnny expects him to, Daniel just pushes on like he didn’t just sweep Johnny’s legs out from underneath him. 

“I’m not gonna to fight you anymore, Johnny,” Daniel says, voice firm, eyeing daring Johnny to challenge him. “I’m not an idiot, I know what you’re trying to do and it’s not gonna work on me, okay? You wanna fight someone, call up Tommy or Jimmy or Bobby, fight it out with them. But don’t do it to me. I’m just trying to help—“

“I didn’t ask for your help, LaRusso—“

“Yeah, well, that ship fucking sailed when you woke me up, screaming my name, tryin’ to choke yourself in your fuckin’ sleep, okay? So you don’t get to decide whether you want my help or not,” Daniel snaps, eyes flashing with more than just anger. Johnny can see the fear, the worry and it cuts at him like a serrated blade. “Jesus Christ, Johnny, do you even—you were _screamin’_ , for me and you wouldn’t— _fuck,_ you wouldn’t wake up no matter how hard I tried to—shake you awake and then when you _did_ wake up, you wouldn’t stop shaking and cryin’ and tellin’ me I wasn’t real—“ Daniel swallows, eyes haunted and it’s—hard to look at. Like the first time Johnny went over to Daniel’s apartment and saw his handiwork up close and personal, the damage he inflicted on Daniel’s knee. How much pain he really caused out of his own desperation for approval from a man that didn’t think twice about turning on him over a second place trophy. 

And how even now, Kreese looms over them both, like a wound that just won’t heal. 

Daniel shakes his head, like maybe if he shakes it enough, the memory will disappear like a drawing on an etch-a-sketch. “Look, I know it’s not easy—talkin’ about all of this and I know you’d rather pretend like it didn’t happen, like maybe if you try hard enough, it’ll just go away, but Johnny—“ Daniel gives him a grim smile, “this isn’t gonna go away. Not—like _this_. It’s just gonna get worse and that—that’s _not_ okay. That’s not healthy—for _anyone.”_

And the thing is, Johnny _knows_ , down to his core, that Daniel is right. He knows it and yet he doesn’t want to admit it. Because admitting it means that it’s _real_ and Johnny—doesn’t want to admit to himself, let alone anyone else, that what happened with Kreese was real. Because admitting it gives it a certain _power—_ a weight that Johnny doesn’t want to be held down by. It makes him vulnerable when all his life he’s been trained not to be. 

He can’t be vulnerable—because being vulnerable means he’s being weak and Johnny Lawrence isn't _weak._ He refuses to be at someone else’s mercy.

“I’m not talking about this,” Johnny says with a vehement shake of his head. He clenches his trembling hands into fists and tries to control the quiver in his voice when he adds, “Maybe you want to, but I’m fucking done talking about this and you can’t—you _can’t_ make me—“

“Johnny,” Daniel says his name so softly, almost _tenderly_ , like Johnny’s something fragile, something worth being treated with the upmost love and care. It makes Johnny’s eyes sting and his fists clench tighter, jaw twitching because he’s not talking about this, he’s _not._ “It’s just me. There’s no else here but me.”

_That’s the point,_ Johnny thinks to himself almost hysterically, _I don’t want you to see me like this because you might get scared and leave and then what?_

He doesn’t want Daniel to see this fucked up, screwed up side to him that’s damage beyond repair. He doesn’t want Daniel to see that scared twelve year old little boy that accepted the harsh words and blows Kreese hurled at him because it was the closest thing to _caring_ that Johnny had ever experienced at the hands of a male figure. Doesn't know how to explain that to Daniel without sounding crazy—that he put up with it because Johnny was so fucking desperate to be loved by someone that he let someone in, let them use him and twist him into a person he didn’t even recognize anymore just so he could say that someone cared about him. 

It’s fucked, Johnny knows it and admitting to that is admitting to a weakness and he doesn’t want to lay that at Daniel’s feet and trust him not to stomp all over it. 

And what’s even scarier is that Johnny knows, with his whole being, that Daniel would _never_ do that to him. Johnny knows he won’t because this is Daniel— _Daniel_ , who forgives when he shouldn’t, shows mercy to people who don’t deserve it, tries to fix things no matter how broken they seem, cares for the people he loves to the point of it being a detriment to his own wellbeing— _Daniel,_ who’s looking up at Johnny with eyes that are just trying to understand. _Daniel,_ who just wants to help him, fix him, piece him back together, one broken, shattered fragment at a time. 

But the thing is, Johnny doesn’t know if he _can_ be fixed. 

(He’s also terrified to try, because what if he tries only to find out that this is just how it’s supposed to be)

What if Daniel tries and then just decides, one day, that Johnny’s not worth the effort anymore. That scares him more than anything, worse than any nightmare, because that one he won’t be able to escape, won’t be able to wake up from, no matter how hard he tries. 

Because Johnny’s never had a defense for Daniel. Despite his best efforts, Daniel’s just always been _there,_ lurking in the back of his mind, his thoughts and more recently, his heart. 

And Johnny’s just not sure what would happen if, one day, Daniel just up and disappeared without so much of a backward glance, like everyone else in Johnny’s life. 

The thought makes panic claw sharply at his gut, shredding his heart to pieces and making it harder to breathe, leaving him gasping for air, lungs burning, head swimming unpleasantly. 

But before the anxiety can really take over, warm hands grab his, bringing them to an even warmer chest, resting his palm right over a steady heartbeat that Johnny would recognize anywhere. 

“Hey,” Daniel whispers, rubbing Johnny’s arm soothingly, his touch grounding, a lifeline to a drowning man in an unruly sea. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You say that now,” Johnny mutters, but the words soothe the frayed edges of the very short rope that Johnny’s clinging to. 

“And I’ll keep sayin’ it,” Daniel assures, chin raised stubbornly. “Until you finally believe me.”

“You’ll be waiting a long time,” Johnny warns, but there’s a small, hopeful smile curling at his lips that Daniel mirrors with a smile of his own. 

“Lucky for you, I’m a patient guy,” Daniel says, making Johnny snort. “ _Okay_ ,” Daniel amends with a roll of his eyes. “So, that might’ve been a lie, but hey, I’m patient when it comes to things that I think are worth it.”

“And am I? Worth it?” Johnny can’t help but wonder aloud, voice shaking with the weight of his insecurity and he _hates_ himself for it. 

“To me you are,” Daniel whispers, heartbreakingly honest, brown eyes shining with sincerity. 

And just like last night, Johnny can’t help but believe him. He clings to it like a scared child would a teddy bear, with a vain hope that it’s almost debilitating in it’s intensity. 

Daniel kisses him, soft and sweet and it chases away the last few tendrils of anxiety that had been lingering, lurking like a shark in search for blood in the water, in his veins, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Johnny cradles Daniel’s face in his hands, feels the signs of life underneath his fingers—the flush that heats the smooth skin of his cheeks, the flutter of a pulse underneath the delicate skin of neck, the way his muscles in his jaw jump and twitch as he deepens the kiss, teasing his tongue over Johnny’s lips—and it makes the desire to know that Daniel is really here, in this moment, return with a vengeance. 

It wasn’t as desperate as before, but it’s _there_ and Johnny doesn't have the energy to fight it. Doesn’t want to, because the last twelve hours of his life—awake _and_ asleep—have been hell and he feels like he’s ruined what’s supposed to be a fun weekend and he just…wants to feel something other than guilt and fear. 

So, he guides Daniel carefully back to the messy bed, carefully presses him into the sheets and loses himself in Daniel’s body. Trails kisses down his jaw, sucks bruises into the hollows of his throat, teases his teeth over the prominent collarbones and when he gets to his chest, he lingers there for a moment; feels the steady thrum of Daniel’s heartbeat, strong and reassuring as it beats against his ribs. 

The fear he doesn’t want to feel coils in the back of his throat, mind flashing back to Daniel’s body, lifeless, tan skin, pale and colorless, _dead._ But then Daniel’s fingers tangle in his hair, Daniel’s heartbeat dances underneath his palm and it grounds him back to the moment, brings him back above the surface, allows him to take a shaky breath of air and blow it back out over Daniel’s skin. 

Daniel’s eyes are dark pools of amber, achingly tender, and for a moment, Johnny feels those words creep up, the desire to just— _say_ them is so overwhelming and they’re right there, a weight on his tongue, pressing against his lips, demanding to be let out—

—but Johnny pushes them down, tucking them away, deep into his heart for safe keeping. He’s already given too much of himself away and he doesn’t want to say them out of the fear that still lingers in his veins. 

Instead, he settles for tapping the tips of his fingers over the steady rhythm of Daniel’s heart; one, two, three times, before he places a reverent kiss, right in the center of Daniel’s chest. He can feel the unspoken words land in the way Daniel’s heartbeat stutters before taking flight, fluttering like a humming birds wings underneath Johnny’s lips. He knows Daniel got the message when he traces a calloused finger over Johnny lips, touch delicate, almost feather light, before he taps: one, two, three, _four_ times, eyes never leaving Johnny’s. 

_I love you, too_

It’s not the actual words, but it doesn’t matter, Johnny hears it, almost as if Daniel actually said them out loud. They settle something in Johnny’s chest, like a piece of a puzzle finding it’s way home and it gives him the strength to kick the nightmare from his mind and enjoy this moment, with Daniel, half naked and sprawled out underneath him, looking up at him like Johnny’s just given him the world and then some.

Johnny knows the feeling because right here, in this moment, Daniel is Johnny’s world and it’s one he wants to live in forever. And he will, as long as Daniel lets him.

Their lips meet as if dragged together by a magnetic force and it’s electric—heat and teeth and tongue—but there’s a softness, an almost reverence, that’s never been there before. It aches, tender and new, in Johnny’s chest, sliding like liquid warmth in his veins, mixing and mingling with the desire that curls and flickers in the pit of his belly, fanning the flames of his earlier arousal. 

“Johnny,” Daniel breathes, whisper soft, breath ghosting between their lips. “ _Johnny.”_

His name sounds like a prayer coming from Daniel’s kiss swollen lips and Johnny eats it up like a starved man, sliding his lips down Daniel’s neck, the dip in his collarbones, the little dips and planes of his belly, following the thin little line of hair to the waistband of the boxers riding low on Daniel’s delicate hip bones.

The urge to slide the fabric down Daniel’s mile long legs and follow the path with his lips is strong and flickering his eyes up, Johnny finds Daniel already watching him—lip between his teeth, eyes heavy lidded and dark, shimmering with a nervous anticipation makes Johnny’s cock twitch and his heart race because they’ve never been fully bare in front of each other. Sure, they’ve showered together, but being naked in the shower was one thing, but _this_ —being naked in a bed with all the privacy in the world—is a totally different realm of intimacy that they haven’t crossed into yet and coming off the silent _I love you,_ well, the moment just feels… _big._

“Okay?” Johnny whispers, tapping Daniel’s hip in question.

Daniel’s answering nod is a little shaky, but his eyes are determined and they don’t leave Johnny’s face as he tugs Daniel’s boxers down, _down, down_ , tossing them over his shoulder, uncaring where they land because Daniel’s naked in his bed and _holy shit_ —Johnny wants to burn the memory into his mind forever. 

Sprawled naked against the white sheets—with his dark eyes and miles of smooth, tan skin that gleams a rich russet brown in the early morning sun peaking in through the large bay windows next to Johnny’s bed—Daniel looks almost ethereal, like one of those Botticelli paintings his mom was so obsessed with for a while, back when she was deep into that renaissance shit— _Birth of Venus_ or whatever. 

But his Daniel’s hotter than any Botticelli chick and Johnny almost wishes he could take a picture, but even then he doesn’t think his polaroid camera could manage to capture the utter beauty that is a naked and aroused Daniel in his bed. 

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” Johnny whispers, trailing reverent fingers over the long line of Daniel’s left leg, teasing through the wispy dark hairs that decorate his thighs that are a few shades paler than the rest of him. 

Daniel squirms, cheeks flushing pink. 

“Shut up, I am not,” he says, shoving at Johnny’s shoulder, trying to look away, but Johnny catches his chin, stopping him. 

Big brown eyes, shining with insecurity and self doubt, peer up at Johnny underneath dark lashes and the part of his heart that belongs solely to Daniel (read: _the biggest)_ gives a sharp, painful tug at the sight. It’s also weirdly reassuring to realize Johnny’s not the only one who’s got his own hang-ups in this relationship. 

Johnny tuts, shaking his head, kissing the frown from Daniel’s lips, teasing his tongue over the plush lower lip, nipping it with his teeth before he pulls away, smirking when Daniel whines and chases after his lips, wanting more. He hums when Johnny’s lips trail over the hinge of his jaw, down the slope of his neck, sucking bruises as he goes.

“You have no idea,” Johnny murmurs between kisses, “just how sexy you are,” he nips at Daniel’s earlobe, teases his tongue in the outer-shell, grinning when it makes Daniel shiver. “I want you,” Johnny continues, watching as a hickey blooms over the delicate skin of Daniel’s collarbones, traces his tongue over it before he moves on, “all the fucking time,” he bites gently at a nipple, soothing the sting with gentle laves of his tongue. Daniel’s chokes on a moan, fingers tangling in Johnny’s hair, tugging him closer, wanting more and Johnny’s all too happy to oblige. 

“I can’t think of anything but you,” Johnny admits, giving the other nipple the same treatment, cock leaking in his boxers at the whimper that leaves Daniel’s lips at a particularly rough bite. “Kissing you,” he goes lower, tracing every ridge of Daniel’s ribs with his tongue, “touching you,” he teases his fingers down Daniel’s sides for emphasis, “what you sound like when I touch you,” he grips Daniel’s cock and gives it a teasing stroke, “ _here.”_

_“Johnny,”_ Daniel whispers, breathless, wanting and it makes heat spread all the way down to Johnny’s toes. 

Daniel’s cock is a hot, heavy weight in Johnny’s hand and being this up close and personal to it makes those desires—to taste, to feel the familiar weight in his mouth instead of his hand, to trace the ridges and grooves with his tongue—overwhelming in their intensity, almost completely blocking out the small voice in the back of his mind telling him that wanting something like this, this badly, is _wrong._

But then he meets Daniel’s eyes—dark and trusting and filled with so much _want_ —and he tells that voice to go fuck itself because he wants this, dammit. Wants to do this for Daniel, wants to give him this, wants to show him how much he loves him and appreciates all the little things he does for him, despite the fact that’s he’s a major fuck up and Daniel deserves way better. 

(Johnny also just really wants to try this because it makes his blood hot and his cock ache to the point of pain at the thought of making Daniel come like this).

Mustering all the courage he can, he shoots Daniel a smirk and says, “Since telling isn’t getting me very far, maybe I should try showing you.”

And then, without further ado, he grips Daniel’s cock and swallows down as much as he can in one go. 

_Strike first, strike hard,_ Johnny thinks to himself wryly. 

He goes down a bit too far, the tip of Daniel’s cock touching the back of his throat and it makes him choke, tears springing to his eyes and he has to fight off the urge to pull away and cough.

Embarrassment overshadows some of his lust, especially when Daniel looks more concerned than aroused, but he fights through it, forcing himself to relax his throat, breathing through his nose and eventually, the urge to cough goes away and he finds the courage to try and continue.

It takes him a few tries, experimenting with how much of Daniel he can take without gagging, but he gets the hang of it and finds a rhythm that makes Daniel pant with need and when Johnny figures out how to stroke his hand over the half he can’t fit in his mouth, Daniel makes a sound that sounds like he just got punched. 

“Fuck, Johnny—I’m not gonna—“ Daniel cuts himself on a moan when Johnny flicks the head with his tongue and Daniel keens, hands scrabbling for purchase in Johnny’s hair, “— _God, John—_ feels so good—“

Johnny hums, pleased at the praise and despite the ache in his jaw and the burn in his throat, he re-doubles his efforts, wanting this to be good for Daniel, wants his first blow job to be something memorable and something he wants more of from Johnny. 

Because _fuck_ , does Johnny like this—a lot more than he thought he would. 

Daniel’s cock, much like his body, is long and lean and Johnny loves the way it feels on his tongue; the weight of it, the velvety softness of the skin as it pulses between his lips, the taste—bitter and salty and sweet, all at once. Daniel’s scent is the strongest here—sweat and earth and citrus with hints of Johnny’s soap and cologne—and he breathes it in with every inhale. Daniel’s skin is flushed and soft and slippery with sweat underneath Johnny’s grip on his bucking his hips and the sounds he’s making— _God,_ Johnny wants to record them and listen to them on a loop, use them whenever Daniel isn’t around to get him off.

All of his senses are wrapped up and centered on Daniel and Daniel _only_ and _fuck_ , it’s heady, making Johnny grind his throbbing cock desperately into the bed underneath him. If he wasn’t so concerned about Daniel accidentally choking him, he’d sneak a hand down and jerk himself off because he’s _this_ close to bursting if he doesn’t come soon. 

“Johnny, I’m gonna—“ Daniel whimpers, tugging at Johnny’s hair in warning, but Johnny doesn’t do things half-way and he stays stubbornly between Daniel’s thighs, determined to see this through until the end. 

“ _Johnny_ ,” Daniel gasps, insistent, but Johnny just hums, flicking the head with his tongue and he feels the way Daniel’s cock twitches, feels the vein pulse and then he’s coming with a sharp cry of Johnny’s name and a litany of curses in Italian—which, _hot._

Fluid, hot and bitter, fills Johnny’s mouth quickly and he tries to swallow it, he does, but he over estimated just _how much_ of it there would be and he finds himself overwhelmed with the flavor and the texture and it’s— _too much_. He coughs, pulling away, remembering at the last second to keep stroking Daniel through the rest of his orgasm, shivering when the rest of his release lands on his chest, smattering across his skin in warm, abstract patterns. 

He feels used and marked and kind of gross, but he feels pride swell, hot and heavy, in his belly when catches the absolute _fucked out_ expression on Daniel’s flushed face. He looks almost _high_ , limbs loose and relaxed, eyes droopy and sleepy, dreamy little smile on his lips as he gazes up at Johnny with complete adoration and wonder. 

Before Johnny can open his mouth and gloat, Daniel’s all over him, kissing him, touching him, fingers yanking Johnny’s ruined boxers down his thighs and gripping his painfully hard cock in a grip that means business.

“Fuck, Johnny, that was— _so fucking good._ “ Daniel whispers, tongue teasing over Johnny’s jaw, hand smearing through his own release that still covers Johnny’s chest, pressing it into his skin and it’s possessive and hot and it makes Johnny groan, hips bucking in Daniel’s grasp. 

Their lips meet again in a kiss that’s all teeth and tongue and _filth_ and Johnny’s so hard it’s almost painful, can feel the stirring in his belly, the pleasure, white hot, coiling at the base of his spine and then Daniel says, a little pleased, a little surprised and a lot breathless, “Fuck, I can taste myself in your mouth,” and it’s too much for Johnny’s brain to process, all at once and he comes, hot and messy between them and Daniel strokes him through it, kissing him, humming against his lips, tasting himself _holy shit_ —

“Holy shit,” Johnny breathes, lungs burning, as he collapses on top of Daniel’s sweaty chest. 

“Yeah,” Daniel pants, fingers sliding into Johnny’s sweat matted hair. “Yeah,” he repeats, voice filled with amazement. 

It makes Johnny laugh, which makes Daniel grin and then they’re both giggling with childish glee, cheeks flushed, smiles relaxed and it’s the best Johnny’s felt in a while—lightweight and free and it wraps over him like a blanket. 

“So,” Johnny murmurs after a beat, nuzzling against Daniel’s nose, kissing his lips gently. “Did I get my point across?”

Daniel hums, brown eyes sparkling with mischief as he gazes up at Johnny with flushed cheeks and kiss swollen lips. “I don’t know,” he murmurs back, tracing Johnny’s lips with a gentle finger. Johnny nips at it playfully, belly heating when Daniel’s eyes heat, pupils dilating with want. “Show me again?”

Johnny smirks. “I think that can be arranged.”

Daniel smirks right back before he leans up and captures Johnny’s lips in a kiss.

*

When they finally manage to roll themselves out of bed, the sun is high in the sky and Johnny’s stomach is threatening to up and leave his body if it doesn’t get fed soon. They fall into an easy sense of domesticity as they get ready for the day together—showering together, brushing their teeth together, side by side at the sink, elbows bumping, fingers ghosting over bare skin as they move around each other, like they’ve been doing this all their lives rather than just the few times Johnny’s stayed over at Daniel’s or now, here, in Johnny’s space, as they weave around each other in the bathroom.

Their bodies are so attuned to each other’s, anticipating what the other wants or needs, how they move, when they move, a natural rhythm that reminds Johnny of a dance. It’s how he felt, back in November, fighting Daniel in the finals of the tournament—the way they orbited around each other, blocking and countering each other’s attacks with a grace and flow that Johnny’s never experienced before when sparring with someone. Johnny doesn’t think he’s ever had this… _awareness_ of another person’s presence before. It’s like a low buzz underneath his skin, a gentle hum of activity, making his blood heat and his heartbeat pick up, stomach fluttering with an anxious anticipation, aching for Daniel’s touch, his attention, in any way he can get it. 

Daniel’s humming a song under his breath—fucking _Air Supply,_ Johnny’s totally gonna give him shit for it later—as he combs his shower messy hair, making himself at home by using Johnny’s hair products and aftershave—even though Johnny’s willing to bet that his baby face has never even seen a razor, let alone needed to use one—and it makes Johnny feel… _odd._ Makes him think of what the future could hold for them, if he doesn’t manage to fuck this up too royally. 

Daniel catches Johnny’s gaze in the mirror and he pauses in his singing, heading cocking to the side in a way that reminds Johnny of a curious puppy, lips pulling up into a confused smile. “Why are you lookin’ at me like that?”

It shakes Johnny out of his stupor and he realizes, belatedly, that he’s been standing here, toothbrush dangling uselessly from his mouth, for God only knows how long, a silly, foamy toothpaste smile on his lips as he stares at Daniel like a love-struck moron. 

Johnny ducks his head and spits into the sink to cover his blush. 

“Like what?” He demands, cupping his hands to rinse his mouth out. 

Daniel takes a moment to answer, watching with a contemplative look on his face as Johnny runs his toothbrush underneath the faucet, taps it out over the sink before setting in the little plastic cup; grabs the hand towel and wipes at his face, erasing any stray spots of toothpaste from his lips, folding it back over the towel holder before he slides up behind Daniel, wrapping his arms around his skinny hips, pulling him into his chest and it does something funny to his heart when Daniel goes without protest, snuggling into Johnny’s hold like it’s where he belongs. 

“I don’t know,” Daniel says eventually, eyes narrowing as they trace over Johnny’s face. “You were just lookin’ at me all funny.”

Johnny smirks, brushing a kiss over Daniel’s bare shoulder, the slope of his neck, nips at his ear and whispers, “Maybe because you’re funny looking.”

Daniel squawks indignantly, whipping around to swat at Johnny, who dodges it, laughing. 

“You’re an asshole,” Daniel huffs, attempting to pout but Johnny can see the way his lips twitch and he knows that he’s trying not to smile. 

“But I’m _your_ asshole, baby,” Johnny counters, resting his hands on Daniel’s hips and kissing the pout from his lips. 

Daniel pulls away after a beat, wrinkling his nose. “Wait, that doesn't sound right.”

Johnny just shoots him an obnoxious wink and he’s not the least bit surprised when Daniel shoves him away, laughing. “Finish getting ready, Casanova. I’m hungry.”

Johnny gives Daniel a mock salute, dodging another playful jab as he heads out of the bathroom to finish getting ready for the day. 

Daniel starts humming again—it’s the _Grease_ soundtrack now, which is only a step above _Air Supply_ by a small margin in Johnny’s book—and his voice carries through the bedroom as Johnny flicks through the hangers in his closet, trying to find something to wear, a smile tugging at his lips despite himself. 

_Hopelessly devoted, indeed._

_*_

They decide to go to Sal’s for breakfast, because the only grocery shopping Johnny’s done since his mom and Sid went on their trip is what he grabbed last night. Ex-degenerate or not, he draws the line at eating candy and cold pizza for breakfast. 

Daniel insists on driving them and while it takes some convincing, eventually Johnny concedes, only because Daniel looks so hopeful and Johnny will never admit this, not even on the pain of death, but he’s been _dying_ to ride in the old Ford convertible since Mr. Miyagi gave it to Daniel for his birthday.

There’s not many things that Johnny gets jealous over (material wise, at least) but Daniel’s car is an utter beauty and Mr. Miyagi kept it in pristine condition over the years. The engine practically purrs as it goes down the highway and the leather of the bench seats is so supple, it feels like butter underneath Johnny’s fingers. 

The only drawback of this little dreamboat is the fact that it’s, well, _ancient_ and that means the stereo system leaves a lot to be desired.

“Man, this radio sucks,” Johnny complains, twisting the old dial in the attempt to find a half way decent radio station. A fight he’s struggling to win. “Remind me to buy you a new one.”

Daniel shoots him a scandalized look behind his aviators. “She’s a _classic,_ Johnny,” Daniel reprimands, rubbing a consoling hand over the well conditioned tan leather of the dash, like the car has feelings or ears. “Don’t insult her.”

Johnny snorts, rolling his eyes. “Whatever you say, LaRusso. But I’m pretty sure the last time this car played actual music _big band_ was all the rage.”

“So, she’s got a little character,” Daniel says with an easy shrug. “That’s not a bad thing. Besides, what’d Chiquita ever do to you anyways?”

_“Chiquita?”_ Johnny demands, not bothering to hide his amusement. “Like it’s bad enough that you named your car, but out of all the names in the world, you choose _that?”_

The flush on Daniel’s cheeks has nothing to do with the sun, but he raises his chin defiantly, quirking a challenging eyebrow. “So what if I did? You got a problem with that?” he asks, slapping Johnny’s hand away to take over trying to find a radio station. 

“A few, actually,” Johnny answers, throwing his hands up in surrender, letting Daniel give it the good old college try. “Only nerds name their cars, LaRusso.”

Daniel sniffs. “Mr. Miyagi liked it,” he says, as if this should mean something to Johnny. It doesn’t. But Johnny knows that’s not the case for Daniel. “Besides,” Daniel adds, nimble fingers twisting at the ancient radio dial. “Don’t pretend like you haven’t named the Firebird.”

The tail end of Aerosmith’s _Walk This Way_ comes through the speakers and Daniel shoots Johnny a triumphant grin, settling back behind the wheel just in time to catch the next red light. 

_Fucker._

“Like I said, only nerds name their cars and I’m not a nerd,” Johnny says, lying through his teeth. He does have a name for the Firebird, but a man’s entitled to his own secrets. Even if _Scarlett_ is a way better name for a car than _Chiquita,_ for fucks sake. “Also, Mr. Miyagi laughs at his own jokes and finds you funny, so I’m not really sure his opinion can be trusted.”

Daniel pouts. “Hey, I’m funny.”

In lieu of responding, Johnny just reaches over to turn the radio up, shooting Daniel a smirk. “What was that? I can’t hear you.”

“Real mature, asshole,” Daniel says, reaching over to turn the volume back down, but Johnny intercepts his hand and tangles their fingers together instead. 

Brushing a kiss over Daniel’s knuckles, Johnny, feeling bold, says, “Yeah, well, you love me, so what does that say about you?”

Johnny watches, with bated breath, as the words land and Daniel visibly swallows, lips parting but before he can answer, the light turns green and he has to look away to drive. 

The Eagles are playing on the radio, Don Henley crooning over the old speakers and Johnny can barely hear the lyrics over the racing of his heart and the blood rushing in his ears.

_Oh, I did some damage_

_I know it's true_

_Didn't know I was so lonely_

_Till I found you_

If Johnny were in a laughing mood, he’d find it hilarious that this song, of all songs, would be playing right now. Right after he just— _fuck did he really just—_

Daniel’s hand, which Johnny had completely forgotten he was even holding in the first place, squeezes his gently, pulling Johnny back from the edge of blind panic he’s teetering over. 

_You can go the distance_

_We'll find out_

_In the long run (In the long run)_

_We can handle some resistance_

_If our love is a strong one (Is a strong one)_

Daniel doesn't say anything, just continues to hold Jonny’s hand as they drive the last few miles to the diner. His dexterous fingers gently tap out the beat of the song out on the back of Johnny’s hand, a rhythmic _ba-ba-ba-bum, ba-ba-ba-bum, ba-ba-ba-bum,_ that anchors Johnny to the moment, keeping the anxiety at bay, until they pull into the parking lot of Sal’s. 

Daniel only lets go of his hand in order to put the car into park and once it is, he doesn’t hesitate to re-twine their fingers, letting the car idle in the space. He turns the radio down, but not too far that Johnny can’t hear it, like Daniel knows music is one of the things that helps ground Johnny whenever he gets like this—lost in his head, too anxious to really grab onto a single thought, despite the fact that it seems like his brain is overloaded with them, too many of them, crammed into a space too small to fit them all.

And it only cements the feeling growing in Johnny’s chest, blooming like a flower in spring, despite the crippling unease clawing away at his gut. 

_Well, we're scared_

_But we ain't shakin'_

_Kinda bent_

_But we ain't breakin’_

“I do, you know,” Daniel murmurs, brown eyes shimmering like liquid amber, even behind the dark shades of his knock off Ray Bans. “Love you, I mean.” He adds, almost shyly, like Johnny needs the clarification. 

He doesn’t. But the words, even if they’re not the whole declaration, bounce around in Johnny’s head, echoing in his ears and it’s—it’s—scary and overwhelming and _everything_ , all at once. 

The last time Johnny felt this way was last summer, when he and the rest of the Cobra’s snuck off to Sid’s cabin, up at Lake Tahoe. They’d been drinking one night, out by the campfire, playing truth or dare—which, with them, was more of dare or dare—and the third round in, Dutch, drunk and high on god only knows what he managed to steal from his old man, had dared Johnny, with this shit-eating grin, to jump off the cliff situated a few yards down from the cabin—the same cliff they had affectionately dubbed Suicide Rock sophomore year, when Dutch had given Bobby the same dare and Bobby, the smartest one out of all of them, had just looked at Dutch and said, _“yeah, right, maybe if I had a death wish.”_

Dutch’s grin had looked almost manic in the firelight, dark, unkempt eyebrows raised in challenge and Johnny can remember the way his blood froze in his veins, the shiver of fear that went racing down his spine because Johnny was terrified—like knees shaking, mind-numbingly, _petrified_ of heights and Dutch, the sick son of a bitch, _knew_ that. And he was _so_ proud of himself for remembering that little tidbit of information, too. Johnny could see it in the smugness of his smirk, the vicious glee that sparkled in the depth of his flat brown eyes. 

However, never one to be bested, Johnny had taken Dutch’s dare with a pit in his stomach and a smirk of his own that he prayed hid how scared he really was. 

He had never known true fear until he stood at the edge of that cliff and stared down at the dark abyss that was Lake Tahoe that late at night. He remembers feeling it in every pore of his body, every anxious beat of his heart, right down to the marrow of his bones. It had been gut twisting, tying his belly into one giant knot of dread, creeping all the way up to his lungs and pressing _down_ , making him choke on it. He remembers clenching his eyes and gritting his teeth so he wouldn’t scream—he refused to give Dutch the satisfaction—and with legs that were shaking so badly he could barely stand, he pushed off the sharp ledge and into the water below. 

There’d been a moment of absolute weightlessness—where his body had just hung, suspended against the backdrop of a night sky dotted with stars and a waning moon and for a brief moment, Johnny felt like he could reach a hand out and touch it. Wanted to know what a star would feel like, cradled in the palm of his hand, maybe he could keep it as a souvenir—and then gravity shifted, pulling the weight of his body downwards, plummeting him and all of his protesting organs, at an alarming rate towards the water below him. Every instinct in his body was screaming at him, telling him to throw an arm out, to grab on to something to stop the inevitable fall, but Johnny ignored it, forcing his limbs to relax and go with the fall instead of fighting it, following it all the way down to the dark surface of the water. 

Wind in his hair, the adrenalin making his heart race, it was the closest thing he’d ever experienced to flying. 

Until now.

“You don’t have to say it back,” Daniel assures him quietly, teeth worrying at his lip. “I know it’s probably way too soon, but—“

“No, I—“ Johnny tries, pausing to take a shaky breath. His heart is racing, stomach fluttering and he’s terrified but he’s also excited and just like the cliff, he summons all the courage he can and takes the leap. “I love you. So much. Like, Danny you— _God_ , you have no idea how much.”

And it’s the truth. Johnny can feel it, down to the very core of his entire being, how much he loves Daniel. It’s scary and overwhelming and saying it makes it _real,_ no longer deniable. It’s there, out in the open, leaving him vulnerable and at Daniel’s mercy and Johnny resists the the urge to clench his eyes shut and brace for the inevitable impact. 

Because even though he’s absolutely petrified, he wants to take this jump with eyes wide open, wants to see everything Daniel has to give and he’s not disappointed. 

Daniel’s practically _beaming,_ eyes shining much like the stars did that night at the cliffs and maybe it’s a bit reckless and a little dangerous, but Johnny can’t help but swoop in and taste that smile for himself. 

“I do, Johnny,” Daniel breathes when they part, resting their foreheads together. “I do know, because I love you just as much.”

Johnny kisses him again, because before he says something stupid like how it’s the first time someone’s ever said those words to him. Said them and actually meant it. Said them and Johnny believes them. 

And he does. 

God help him, he _does._

*

Johnny’s riding on a high that he doesn’t think anything or anyone will be able to take him down from. 

Their waitress has just set their plates of food down in front of them when Daniel says, tentatively, watching Johnny closely for a reaction, “I was gonna go over to Mr. Miyagi’s today, you know, since the doctor said I can start training again,” he pauses, taking a healthy bite of his pancakes before he adds, trying for nonchalant and failing miserably, “and I was thinkin’ maybe you’d want to go with me?”

The bite of waffles Johnny just swallowed suddenly feels like lead and he has to take a hefty gulp of orange juice to help it on it’s descent to his stomach. 

_Well_ , he thinks, _so much for that_

“And why would I want to do that?” Johnny asks, taking a harsh bite of his bacon just to keep his mouth busy. Mostly so he doesn’t say anything stupid, but also because he refuses to let perfectly good bacon go to waste. At least it goes down better than the waffles. Small victories. 

Daniel shrugs, but he’s still watching Johnny with a guarded expression, like he’s bracing himself for a fight, dark eyes cautious, body taut with tension. And Johnny can’t really blame him for his weariness, not after the last week, where it seems like the littlest things have set him off for no particular reason other than they just _do._

“Well, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to, obviously,” Daniel answers after a beat, biting his lip. “But,” he adds, eyeing Johnny with, big, hopefulBambi eyes. “I thought, maybe, if you _did_ want to, it’d be cool to have you there. I’d like for you to be there. And I really want to show you Mr. Miyagi’s house—it’s crazy, like bein’ in a different country or somethin’—“

“LaRusso,” Johnny interrupts, wanting to hedge him off before he _really_ got going. “I already told you, I don’t want to train with your sensei.”

“I know, I know,” Daniel says quickly, tearing off a piece of bacon and dragging it through the excess syrup on his plate and Johnny wrinkles his nose. “I’m not askin’ you to train, I just—I don't know,” he shrugs, biting his lip and now he just looks shy. “You’re important to me and Mr. Miyagi’s important to me and I just thought—I don’t know—want you two to get to know each other better.”

“And why would I want to do that?” Johnny asks, stabbing irritably at his stack of waffles.

He knows it’s the wrong thing to say, could kick himself for it, especially when he glances up from his plate and catches the hurt look on Daniel’s face. 

_Fuck._

Johnny opens his mouth to backtrack or apologize, _something,_ _anything_ , to wipe that wounded look off of Daniel’s face. But Daniel just shakes his head and hunching his shoulders, he looks down at his plate and quietly finishes what’s left of his breakfast, making Johnny feel like the biggest fuck up in the history of fuck ups. 

Rhonda, their usual waitress, drops off their check and she must pick up on the tension between them because she doesn't linger. She does, however, throw Johnny a look that screams _fix it_ and Johnny isn’t sure if he should be amused or angry at her automatic assumption that _he’s_ the one that fucked up and not Daniel. 

Not that Johnny blames her. He wouldn’t trust him either, if the choice was between him and sweet, baby faced Daniel with his big, puppy dog eyes and boyish charm that makes the babes giggle and twirl their hair and old ladies want to pinch his cheeks and give him hard candy from their purse. 

Daniel takes that as his cue to get up and mutter something about going to the bathroom, disappearing into the mens room. 

Sighing, Johnny stands up, too and tossing a few twenties on the table, he goes to wait by the car, tossing a wave over his shoulder to Rhonda, who watches him leave with a disapproving look on her face. 

Daniel looks calmer when he comes out of the diner a few minutes later—shouting a goodbye to Rhonda as he heads out the door, lollipop he must’ve snagged from the candy bowl tucked into his cheek. 

He slides behind the wheel, seats creaking, but he doesn't start the car. Instead, he stares at the worn leather of the steering wheel, fingernails picking at a spot that’s peeling from age and sighs. 

“Look, if it felt like I was rushin’ you back there, I’m sorry,” Daniel says eventually, not looking at Johnny. “I swear I’m not trying to push you into doin’ something you’re not comfortable with. It’s just—“ Daniel pauses, blowing out a frustrated breath before he continues, still decidedly looking anywhere _but_ at Johnny, “Look, Mr. Miyagi is all I have, alright? Like, yeah, I have my mom but Mr. Miyagi—he’s—well, he’s the closest thing I have to a friend here. My only friend, actually,” Daniel adds, with a rueful smile. “Come to think of it, he’s the closet thing I’ve ever had to a best friend and I—I don’t know, I just wanted you to meet him, like officially, I mean without all the, well, _you know_ ,” Daniel adds with a wince and Johnny shivers, remembering, with perfect clarity, his first run in with LaRusso’s sensei.

It’s part of the reason why Johnny’s put this off for so long—it’s not that he’s scared, _per se_ , it’s more like he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to face the old man without feeling a never ending pit of shame at everything he’s done to Daniel. All the trouble he’s caused him. All the pain and suffering and humiliation.

It was bad enough, having to face Lucille—who, like her son, was a bit too gracious for her own good—but Mr. Miyagi makes Johnny nervous in a way that Lucille never has. For starters, she’s never kicked him in the balls and laid him out flat on his ass. And Johnny knows Daniel loves his mother, with his whole heart, but Mr. Miyagi is important to Daniel on a level that Johnny, once upon a time, understood. Even if his relationship with Kreese was the polar opposite of Daniel’s relationship with Mr. Miyagi. 

Daniel loves Mr. Miyagi—it’s obvious in the way that he talks about him, the respect and affection in his voice any time he tells Johnny a story about their time together—it radiates off of him in waves and a part of Johnny is terrified of Mr. Miyagi not approving of their relationship. Him. All of it. 

And it’s not that Johnny gives a shit—he can care _less_ about what the old man thinks of him—but he knows that _Daniel_ cares. That _Daniel_ will want the approval from his sensei. 

And Johnny’s not really sure if he wants to put himself in a position where Daniel would have to choose between them. Because Johnny’s not really sure what Daniel would do if that situation were to arise and he’s not overly eager to find out, either. 

“Anyways,” Daniel continues after a beat, clearing his throat. “I want him to know about us. We already have to hide so much and I don’t—I don’t want to hide from the people that matter.”

Well, _fuck._

When put like _that_ , Johnny feels the rest of his resolve crumble to dust, all except for one little niggling thought and he doesn’t want to bring it up _but—_

“Do you think he’ll be okay with it?” 

Johnny hates bringing the possibility up, hates it even more when he sees the flicker of doubt in Daniel’s eyes, but he refuses to go into this without considering the possibility of rejection. Again, not because Johnny gives a shit about gaining any sort of approval from the old man, but he knows that it would kill Daniel if he lost Mr. Miyagi over something as trivial as liking another dude’s dick. 

And Johnny doesn't want to be responsible for inflicting even more damage to Daniel’s life than he already has. Especially considering it’s _his_ fault that the only friend Daniel’s managed to make since moving here is a old man more than triple his own age. Even if that old man is _kind_ of a badass, it’s still just a tiny bit pathetic. 

(Johnny just adds that to already mile long list of things that he has to make up for and at this rate, they’re going to be well into their sixties before he manages to make up for even _half_ of the things on said list. That is, if Daniel decides he can put up with him for that long. Which, in the grand scheme of things, is a majorly big _if)_

Daniel mulls over the question with furrowed browns, chewing on his lower lip and despite himself, Johnny’s drawn to that particular movement, eyes zeroing in on the way his slightly crooked front teeth tug and pull on his plush lower lip, pulling all the blood to the surface, staining them a dark, tempting shade of red that Johnny wants to taste for himself. 

“I think,” Daniel says slowly, voice filled with guarded hope, “that he’ll be okay with it. He might be concerned about—you know, safety. Like, what would happen if other people found out about it, but,” Daniel shrugs, meeting Johnny’s eyes with a renewed sense of confidence, “as long as I’m happy, I don’t think he’ll care all that much.”

Johnny can’t really picture the old man caring all that much, either. He may not know him personally, but he remembers the horrified look on the old mans face as he knelt on the ground next to a broken and battered Daniel. The tender and careful way he cradled a writhing and whimpering Daniel to his chest, repeatedly reassuring him that _Miyagi here, Daniel-san, Miyagi here_ as he stroked Daniel’s sweat matted hair from his face and rubbed soothing circles on his heaving shoulders, _Miyagi here, Daniel-san, Miyagi here._

Johnny can remember the way his gut burned with envy and longing because the display in front of him was miles from the careless, half hearted touch Kreese gave him after Daniel bloodied his nose. The look on Miyagi’s face as Daniel moaned and writhed in agony was that of a father desperate to take the pain away and helpless to do so. 

Not that Johnny would know, because never in his life has someone looked at _him_ that way. Certainly not his own sensei, who’d been more concerned with injuring Daniel than making sure Johnny was okay. 

The love that the old man has for Daniel was just as fierce and devoted as any parent, but if there’s one thing that Johnny’s learned over the years is that love, no matter how unconditional it seems, has unspoken conditions hidden in the fine print. That even _biology_ isn't enough to keep someone around. It wasn’t enough for Johnny’s dad to give enough of a shit to stick around and raise him along side his mom. It isn’t enough for his mom to step in and stop Sid from hitting him or belittling him any chance that he gets. 

People—even the ones who are biologically required to—love you when it suits them best. And even then, they pick and choose the parts they love, because it’s physically impossible to love _everything_ about a person, especially the bad parts—their flaws, their faults, their failures. And sometimes, if you’re lucky, some people are willing to overlook the ugly parts, as long as they’re not _too_ ugly. 

And unfortunately for them, being together, as a _couple—_ well, that was one of those pesky little conditions that most people are unwilling to overlook, no matter how much they _claim_ to love you. 

Johnny just prays, for Daniel’s sake, he’s right in his belief that his sensei is of the small percentage of people willing to overlook this minor detail. 

“If you say so, LaRusso,” Johnny says eventually, aiming for nonchalance, but his stomach is already beginning to twist itself into nervous knots and he suddenly wishes he hadn’t eaten such a big breakfast. 

A tentative, hopeful smile tugs at Daniel’s lips, brown eyes impossibly large and bright underneath his dark lashes. “So, does this mean you’ll come with me?”

“I guess, if it means that much to you,” Johnny sighs, sliding his sunglasses down, shielding his eyes from the bright sunlight and from Daniel, so he doesn’t see just how _not_ excited Johnny is for this particular adventure. “But,” he adds, pointing a finger at Daniel in warning, “I’m _not_ training with you, no matter how much you beg, got it?”

Daniel makes sure Johnny sees his eye roll before he hides them from view with his own sunglasses. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Daniel mutters, backing out of the space. “I heard you the first ten million times.”

Johnny reaches for the dial on the radio so he doesn't give in to the urge to smack Daniel upside the head, turning the music up loud enough to hear over the wind that whips through his hair when the hit the highway, but not even REO Speedwagon can take his mind off just how much of a colossally _bad idea_ this is.

*

Johnny will never admit it, but Daniel was right in his description of Mr. Miyagi’s house—it _is_ like being in another world. Everything, from his collection of classic cars in the long driveway to the impressive wood deck that weaves like a snake through the backyard, makes Johnny feel like he’s been transported to a different decade, like he stepped through the pages of his history book and he’s now in Japan during the 1940’s. 

The awe must show on his face because Daniel shoots him a knowing grin before he leading him down the smoothly sanded deck, Johnny following a long at a much slower pace as his eyes continue to sweep over the impressive expanse of the backyard. 

They find Mr. Miyagi in the little potting shed, where he’s is tending to one of the little trees that he and Daniel are both obsessed with. He looks up at their approach and if he’s surprised by Johnny’s presence in his backyard, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he sets his clippers down and greets Daniel with a warm smile and a fond pat on the shoulder. 

“Ah, Daniel-San, you come to train?” Mr. Miyagi asks, returning to his little tree— _bonsai,_ Johnny corrects himself mentally. 

Daniel nods eagerly, practically vibrating with excitement where he stands. “Yeah, if that’s okay with you.” 

“Fine with Miyagi,” Mr. Miyagi assures before his eyes finally sweep to Johnny, hovering awkwardly over Daniel’s shoulder. And like, Johnny doesn’t know what to do—does he bow? Wave? Say hey? What do you say to a man that kicked your ass and saved it from getting choked to death in a parking lot full of witnesses? 

In the end he just settles for a tentative smile that droops a little bit at the edges when Mr. Miyagi asks, voice impassive, “Will Johnny-San be joining us?”

Johnny clears his throat, unsure of how to respectfully decline the offer without offending the man, but Daniel beats him to the punch, giving his hip a reassuring squeeze that eases some of the nerves swimming in Johnny’s belly. 

“He’s just here to see what real karate looks like,” Daniel says, aiming a smirk over his shoulder at Johnny, brown eyes twinkling mischievously _the little shit_. “Aren’t you, Johnny?”

Johnny narrows his eyes at Daniel before he sends a polite smile—the one he reserves for the old, rich ladies at the Country club—in Mr. Miyagi’s direction, elbowing Daniel discreetly in the ribs. 

The old man looks amused, eyeing the two of them with a gleam in his eyes that Johnny can’t identify before he says, “Well, Johnny-San welcome to join, if Johnny-San would like.”

It sounds genuine enough, which surprises and confuses Johnny in equal measure.

“Thank you,” Johnny says politely and he hopes the old man can hear the sincerity. “But I think I’ll sit this one out.”

Mr. Miyagi accepts this with a nod, not looking the least bit offended, much to Johnny’s relief and turns back to Daniel. “Go change, Daniel-san, then we train.”

Daniel lets out a little _whoop_ of excitement and giving Johnny’s hip another discreet squeeze, he practically _bounces_ into the house, leaving Johnny alone with Mr. Miyagi, who’s regarding him with that same undecipherable look he’s worn since they arrived. 

And despite the fact that Johnny’s almost six feet tall, he feels small underneath Mr. Miyagi’s impassive gaze. _Nervous_. Unsure and off kilter and it makes him tense all over again, fists clenching in the pockets of his jacket. His mind flashes to the night of the Halloween dance, remembers, with perfect clarity, just how much raw power and strength the man possesses in his deceptively smaller body—managing to use Johnny’s weight against him and lay him flat out on his ass in the dirt without even so much as batting an eyelash, picking the rest of them off like he was shooting fish in a barrel. 

It was a humbling experience, to the say the least and taught Johnny a valuable lesson that Kreese never took the time to teach them: _never,_ under any circumstances, underestimate your opponent or overestimate your own abilities. 

It took Johnny getting his ass handed to him twice before the lesson really sunk in, but he got it, in the en and it was only reinforced when he saw, with eyes that were blurry from more than just oxygen deprivation, Mr. Miyagi take Kreese down without even throwing one punch. 

Shame wells, hot and heavy, in Johnny’s gut and he ducks his head down to hide his embarrassment.

“I uh, never did get a chance to thank you for um, what you did for me,” Johnny says, clearing his throat. Forcing himself to look up, he meets Mr. Miyagi’s gaze. “Sensei— _Kreese—_ ” Johnny corrects, swallowing nervously. “—he probably would’ve killed me had you not stepped in and well, you didn’t have to do that. Not after everything that I’ve done. The trouble I’ve caused…” he trails off, biting his lip. “Well, I didn’t deserve it. But. You did it anyway and—well, uh, thanks,” he finishes awkwardly, rocking back on his heels. 

Mr. Miyagi regards him silently for a few moments, obsidian eyes unwavering and Johnny has to fight to maintain eye contact and not give into the urge to look away. 

“Miyagi no like bullies, Johnny-san,” Mr. Miyagi says finally, tone matter of fact. “Big _or_ small,” he adds, with a pointed look.

Johnny flushes, ashamed, but Mr. Miyagi’s gaze is kind when he says, with gentle chiding, “Johnny-San, Miyagi no blame you. Like I tell Daniel-San, no such thing as bad student, only bad teacher and Johnny-san’s teacher was no good.”

Johnny thinks of his nightmares, the constant fear and anxiety that follows him like a shadow, the panic that keeps him constantly on edge and snorts derisively. 

“Yeah, he was a real piece of work, that’s for sure,” Johnny mutters, unconsciously rubbing at this neck. Sometimes, he swears he can still feel Kreese’s arms, pressing down, _squeezing._ He shivers, pulling his jacket tighter around himself to fight the sudden chill that’s settled into his bones. 

“I should've seen it,” Johnny finds himself admitting aloud, to no one in particular. It’s a thought that’s been bouncing around in his head for a while, one that’s kept him up at night, that lurks in, when he’s right on the edge of sleep. If it’s not nightmares, it’s that pesky little thought making him lose sleep and it’s _exhausting._ “The stuff he said, the things he taught us,” Johnny shakes his head, scoffing. “It was always there, I just never saw it. I didn’t _want_ to.”

Mr. Miyagi hums. “Johnny-san, sometime we see only what want. Sometime, people take advantage of circumstance and that not Johnny-San fault.”

“Isn’t it though?” Johnny demands and he hates how desperate he sounds. “I was _there,_ I heard it, I saw it and I never did anything about it.”

Mr. Miyagi tuts chidingly. “Johnny-San is child. Teacher is adult. Teacher responsible for child. Child not responsible for teacher,” Mr. Miyagi says, voice stern, eyes hard. His gaze softens when he adds, gently, “Johnny-San only want to be good student. Nothing wrong with that.”

“I was stupid to think he cared about me,” Johnny says with a bitter laugh.

“Johnny-San no stupid,” Mr. Miyagi says firmly, resting a reassuring hand on Johnny’s shoulder. “Johnny-San want to see good, nothing wrong with that.” 

He says it so matter of factly, like it’s that simple and maybe it is. 

And Johnny wants to believe that, more than anything. He wants to lean into comfort Mr. Miyagi’s so willing to give, with his words and his firm, but gentle grip on Johnny’s shoulder. He _aches_ for it. And he _hates_ himself for it. Because the last time he let himself lean into someone’s comforting words and reassuring touches, he ended up with a broken trophy and bruises around his throat.

“Yeah and look where that got me,” Johnny snaps, yanking himself out of Mr. Miyagi’s hold like he’s been burned. The old man doesn’t even look surprised, which only fuels Johnny’s anger. “I ignored every sign that Kreese was this... _psycho_ who only wanted to train bullies and soldiers. And now I’m all screwed up inside because I can’t—I _can’t_ forget the things he taught me, the things he said, the things he did—it’s all right _here_ ,” Johnny says, jabbing a finger to his temple, “and no matter how hard I try to—I can’t fucking forget it. I want to but I just _can’t._ I can’t forget all the things that I’ve done—the people I’ve hurt—just because I wanted that fucking psycho’s _approval_. How pathetic is _that?_ I almost beat someone to death just because I wanted Kreese to—to—“ _love me, be proud of me, care about me, want me because no else has ever wanted me._

The thought pulls Johnny up short and suddenly feels like he can’t breathe because that’s the problem, isn’t it? The truth that he hasn’t been able to reconcile with because admitting it means that he really is that sad, pathetic little boy who’s been manipulated and used, so many time, to further other people’s agendas. First Sid, in order to get into his mom’s good graces and then Kreese, so he could continue to profit and prey on the weak through Johnny. 

It made Johnny’s stomach twist and his chest feel tight, making it difficult to swallow around the rising lump in his throat, head spinning. 

That firm, but gentle grip is back, grasping his shoulders tightly and pulling him back from the brink of panic he’s constantly dangling helplessly from. 

“Easy, Johnny-san, breathe,” Mr. Miyagi instructs calmly, demonstrating, taking a deep breath in through his mouth, holding it and then releasing it slowly through his nose.

He does it a few more times—inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale—and Johnny catches on, taking a deep breath in, holding, before releasing it. 

Slowly but surely, the knot in his chest loosens, the spots in his vision disappear and he doesn’t feel like he’s spiraling out of control. Mr. Miyagi’s touch is grounding, keeping him tethered to the Earth beneath his feet and when he finally feels like he can breathe, Johnny meets Mr. Miyagi’s steady gaze and feels a rush of gratitude to the man. 

“Thanks,” Johnny whispers sincerely. 

“No need to thank Miyagi, Johnny-san,” Mr. Miyagi says dismissively, releasing Johnny’s shoulders. “Just remember. When you feel life out of focus, always return to basics of life.”

“What’s that?” Johnny asks, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. 

“Breathing,” Mr. Miyagi answers, matter of fact before he adds, voice commanding, “Johnny-san, watch.”

And even though Johnny swore he didn’t want to be trained by the old man,he finds himself following the command anyways, figuring it was the least he can do for the man after everything he’s done for him. 

Mr. Miyagi closes his eyes and presses his hands together like he’s paying and then, taking a deep breath, he slowly raises them above his head, holding them there for a beat, before he exhales, lowering them to center of his chest, holding them for the same amount of time before he inhales again, stretching his arms out in front of him, holding them there for a beat and with an exhale, he brings them back to the center of his chest. 

He repeats the process a few more times before comes to a stop, dropping his hands to his sides, eyes fluttering open.

Nodding to Johnny, Mr. Miyagi says, “Now you try.”

There’s a rebuttal on the tip of Johnny’s tongue, but it dies when Mr. Miyagi shoots him a stern look that tells him that no isn’t answer. 

_Fuck it,_ Johnny thinks to himself with a roll of his eyes. 

Squaring his shoulders, Johnny closes his eyes, presses his hands together and tries to mimic what Mr. Miyagi demonstrated. 

“Good,” Mr. Miyagi says. “Now, breathe in—“

Johnny obeys, taking a deep breath in and raises his arms slowly above his head, feeling his muscles stretch and burn pleasantly with the movement—

“—and breathe out—“

Johnny does, exhaling and bringing his arms back down, right to the center of his chest, where he can feel the steady rhythm of his heart as it beats against his rib cage. 

“—breathe in—“

A deep breath fills his lungs, chest expanding, as he stretches his arms out in front of him, savoring the heady rush of oxygen to his brain, mind blank and focused on nothing else. 

“—out. Good, Johnny-san, very good,” Mr. Miyagi praises as Johnny continues the movement, over and over, until the only thing he feels is the stretch of his muscles, his lungs as he breathes, in and out, in and out. 

And when his eyes flutter open, his arms coming to rest at his sides, he feels centered, relaxed. _Balanced._ And the unfamiliar feeling takes him completely off guard. 

The sound of the back door slamming open and footsteps on the wooden deck startle Johnny out of his daze, head turning to look over his shoulder to see Daniel, decked out in white gi pants and a sleeveless t-shirt, wrestling with his lotus headband to get it tied just right around his head as he walked toward them.

“Alright, Mr. Miyagi, I’m ready to—“ Daniel pauses, coming to a stop behind Johnny’s shoulder, eyes flickering between the two of them in confusion. “—am I missin’ somethin’?”

“Come, Daniel-san, we get started,” Mr. Miyagi says instead, heading over to a patch of grass where a punching bag waits, ready to be used. 

Daniel ignores him, however, taking a step closer to Johnny, brushing careful fingers over the bare skin of his forearm. “Hey,” Daniel murmurs, eyebrows wrinkling, big, brown Bambi eyes wide with concern. “You okay?”

Johnny smiles, giving Daniel’s hip a reassuring squeeze. “Yeah, Larusso,” he murmurs. “I’m alright.”

And for the first time in a long time, it isn’t a lie. 

And it feels _good._

Daniel doesn’t look convinced, eyes flickering between Johnny’s, like he’s searching for a lie, but before he can press for more, a sharp and admonishing shout of “ _Daniel-san!”_ pulls his attention away. 

“Go,” Johnny says, nudging Daniel gently. “Don’t keep your sensei waiting.”

Daniel looks torn, looking back at Johnny with a lingering look of concern in his amber eyes. “Tell me later?” he requests softly, pleading and Johnny nods, pushing him in the direction of an impatient looking Mr. Miyagi. 

“I promise,” Johnny vows and he means it. 

Daniel gives him his bright, crinkly eyed _Daniel_ smile, the kind that lights up his whole face from the inside out and Johnny finds himself smiling back just as brightly. 

_“Oi,_ train now, flirt later,” Mr. Miyagi scolds from across the yard. “Come, Daniel-san.”

Blushing, Daniel obeys his sensei, but Johnny doesn't miss the relieved, pleased smile on his lips or the wink Mr. Miyagi shoots him before he begins to guides Daniel into a stretch. 

Johnny sits down on the deck and contends himself with the view and here, in this little oasis away from the rest of the world, for the time in a long time, he feels completely at peace, even if it’s only temporary. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, apologies for any mistakes, they will get fixed soon!
> 
> Thank you guys for reading and I plan on being back soon with the final chapter :)
> 
> If you'd like to, you can find me on tumblr @victimofthemusic and now on discord: storiesofmylife#7620, come say hi!
> 
> Until then, I hope everyone has a happy thanksgiving (if you celebrate it) and I'll see you guys (hopefully) soon!
> 
> Until next time, stay safe <3

**Author's Note:**

> And there we have it, the first chapter down :) The next chapter should (hopefully) be posted within the next week or so. I hope you guys liked it and feel free to let me know what you think down in the comments :)
> 
> See you soon!


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